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lucyandthepen · 3 months

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get you alone | ljn ( m )

ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.

pairing: tutor!jeno x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint! word count: 8.5k

a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !!

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway.

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable.

and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire.

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more.

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you.

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.”

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.”

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”

“hm?”

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.”

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.”

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.”

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily.

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at.

it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it.

sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together.

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try.

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features.

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question.

by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors.

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips.

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.”

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles.

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.”

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.”

“what kind of rewards did she give you?”

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused.

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.”

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is.

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile.

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly.

“you were serious about that?” he laughs.

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next.

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.”

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so.

when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking.

“sunbae, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.”

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that.

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused.

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours.

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact.

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you.

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one.

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features.

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?”

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins.

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.”

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading.

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.”

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.”

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand.

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words.

“tell me what you really want, then.”

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert.

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later.

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it.

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders.

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced.

“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.”

in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more.

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth.

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him.

“sunbae, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it.

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force.

“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt.

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue.

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you?

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you.

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis.

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?”

“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

“proud enough to give me a reward?”

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be.

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?”

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —”

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.”

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do.

“please, sunbae?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.”

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you.

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.”

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips.

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come.

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”

“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered.

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?”

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance.

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit.

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm.

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.”

“but—”

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.”

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you.

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.”

“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—”

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.”

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.”

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head.

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly.

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice.

“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.”

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.”

“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can.

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.”

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume.

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—”

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you.

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?”

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.”

“m’close, so close —”

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.”

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out.

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off.

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down.

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck.

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

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bluetimeombre · 29 days

Text

You, Oscar and Hugh

You and Hugh have stared in the most talked about movie of the year, so, for the biggest night in Hollywood, the two of you are all people can talk about.

[based on the request for oscars night. I had so much fun writing this!!!! genuinely, how Hugh didn't even get a nomination for Logan is a crime! I'm working on another request for Logan and I've got like dozens of drafts but I loved this and wanted to get it out, I hope you enjoy!]

The Oscars- Hollwood's most prestigious event. Neither Hugh, nor you were strangers to the hall. Hugh had not only been nominated but even hosted and you had been nominated and performed.

But this was new. Both of you had worked hard for your nominations. You and Hugh had been on opposite ends, he was the X-man, the Wolverine while you had been staring in Marvel movies since the very beginning, a friendly rivalry becoming of the two of you which came to fruition when you both stared in 'Deadpool and Wolverine.'

Now, the two of you were in the drama everyone had been talking about- mainly because it featured the hollywood couple. Hugh was nominated for best supporting actor while you had a nomination for best actress in a leading rule.

The camera's flashed as Hugh walked the carpet, alone. Everyone noted that fact. They'd assumed you would be on his arm but there was no sign of you.

He followed his agent as he led him to the row of interviewer's calling his name.

'First of all, I wanted to say congratulations on your nomination, your second nomination!' said the interviewer.

Hugh was all smiles, dapper in his sleek black suit and tie. 'Thank you, man, thank you.'

'So, what's going through your head at a time like this?'

'Honestly, not a lot. There's- there's almost too much to think about that I can't think of anything at all,' he chuckled.

'Are you proud of this movie?' he asked.

'I've never been prouder of a project before, and there's so many reasons why. Maybe that's obvious,' he grinned, thinking of one reason he was incredibly happy to be celebrating this movie. 'Not only does it touch on subjects that need to be touched on more, but we had an incredible direction, an amazing writing team and the rest of the cast.'

The interviewer gave him a knowing smile. 'By cast, are we-'

He didn't even have to finish before Hugh was closing his eyes and nodding. 'Oh yeah.'

Almost as if that was a cue, the yelling and flashing of the camera's intensified as many people turned to look.

'Oh, who's here?' asked Hugh, peaking over peoples heads until he saw. 'Oh.'

You stepped out the car like a star from old hollywood as you waved at the cameras and gave them your dazzling smile. You, like him, were dressed all in sleek black, looking effortlessly beautiful as you took to the carpet.

'There she is, the woman of the hour!' cheered the interviewer.

'Of every hour,' said Hugh, the microphone just picking it up. 'Pleasure to talk to you, man.' He hardly waited for a reply before he was making his way as casually as possible across the carpet to you.

You couldn't hear anything over the yelling, or see much over the flashing lights. All you could do is pose as your agent told you to and smile at the right direction.

You were led away but heard your voice be called from a corner. With a grin, you hurried over to Guillermo, the best part of Jimmy Kimmel shows. 'Hello handsome,' you winked, joining him quickly.

'Hello!' said Guillermo. 'Do you want a shot?'

You laugh. 'Do I want a shot- what? A shot of vodka?'

'We can do vodka,' he said, already prepping the shots.

'Let's do it, why not?'

Together, you take a shot and the camera focuses on you squinting and coughing. 'That was tequila.'

'Oh, sorry.'

'No, I loved it. I love you Guillermo!' you call as you slowly walk away.

Any other celebrity might have wondered why the crowd suddenly got louder, why camera's shifted. But they would've seen Hugh approach you in long strides, would've witnessed your grin as his arms wrapped around your back, careful not to ruin your dress.

They would have wondered what he was saying to you as he held your arms, soothing his thumb over the skin. They would've seen the simmer in your eyes and the way his arm slid around your waist effortlessly. You leant into him and the two of you posed for few pictures, offering them like rare jewels.

You and Hugh had never made it official, whatever it was between the two of you. But everyone knew what it was without words. There was only one word to describe the way Hugh looked at you. But you kept it private, he was some twenty years older and not long out of a marriage. Fans had watched you go from co-stars to friends to possibly (almost definitely) lovers. And they loved any crumbs you'd offer them.

The two of you did little interviews, only really stopping to talk to Amelia Dimoldenberg.

'Wait, the two of you are each other's dates?' she gasped.

'Amelia, I literally sent you an email asking to be my date,' you said. 'I didn't get a reply.'

Hugh stood back, looking between the two of you. 'You asked her, but I asked her first.'

Eventually, the two of you made it into the hall, sitting with the rest of your cast and crew for your movie. You all get situated, smiling and greeting any other friends.

Hugh and you were sat next to each other, something every camera in the room ate up. Since the rumours had started, you'd been all the people could talk about, and they'd be making stories of this for years. They snapped every shot of Hugh watching you talk, arm around the back of your chair, smiling and brushing parts of your hair away. Or how you'd reach out to brush his jacket or straighten his tie.

You couldn't keep your hands off each other.

Finally, the event started and the camera's were zoomed in on you and Hugh, which you didn't trust.

'Ladies and Gentlemen, Hollywood's greatest please welcome your host, Hollywood's worst... Ryan Reynolds!'

Everyone cheered but you and Hugh who's jaws dropped. People laughed at your reactions as you watched him walk out on stage, no less, in an 'I am a child of divorce.' and a picture of you and Hugh at the bottom.

Ryan waved at the two of you as everyone settled. You hid your face from laughing while Hugh was glaring playfully. 'Yeah! I know right! Who's Oscar did I have to shine to get my very own hosting gig! Wasn't yours Jackman, as you've never got one, you know?'

The crowd chuckled.

'And looks like you'll be getting one for, yep, let me check, contribution. Hey, win some you lose some, Wolvie.'

You were still chuckling loudly, the camera never leaving your reactions as the actors and crew laughed at you. So, you sat through Ryan's opening monologue as he spoke about each film individually, most with jokes, and most about how he nor Dogpool were nominated.

'Now, my good friends, well, what I like to call my parents, are both nominated for their movie. Yes, applause, please, they're very fragile,' said Ryan. 'Y/n plays a strong, confident woman who is only ever knocked down by Hugh's character and charm. But enough about what they get up to in the bedroom- this film-' Ryan halted, waiting for you and Hugh to stop playfully smirking at him and for the crowd to stop chuckling. He gave it a few serious words, before letting the rest of the ceremony play out.

You and Hugh were called out several times. When Halle Berry came out to present and gave Hugh a flirtatious wink that you gave back to her, blowing her a kiss.

When your friend Emma Stone tried to get you up to dance and you had to awkwardly shake your head.

Or when Hugh took to the stage, getting ready to take over hosting and you came up to drag him off as a joke.

When best supporting actor came up, they had last years best actress winner- Emma Stone- read out the names.

Hugh smiled and clapped when appropriate, but you seemed more nervous for him. A hand on his thigh, the other biting your nails. He was holding your leg, stopping your jerking knee.

'And the winner for best supporting actor, goes to... Hugh Jackman!'

The crowd erupted, but nobody as loud as you. You were on your feet before Hugh, arms thrown in the air as you cheer and clap.

Hugh's eyes, though he knew should be on the stage, fell to you as he pulled you in for a hug.

'I'm so proud of you!' you yell into his ear.

Hugh kissed your cheek, your temple, your hair, anything he can. Still hugging you, he reaches out behind you to shake hands with the director.

You pull away, kissing the back of his hand as he kisses your cheek again before rushing up to accept the award with a grin and a pep in his step.

He hugs Emma and offers her a polite kiss before taking to the microphone. 'Thank you! Thank you very much, everyone,' he says as they slowly stop clapping. They take their seats as he catches the director handing you tissues.

Hugh reaches into his pocket, taking out a piece of paper. 'I wrote this in 2013 but never got to use it, so excuse me if I just change the title of the film,' he joked as everyone chuckled. 'First, I want to thank the academy for this award. To the director, who had such an eye for art in this film, to the amazing writers for telling a story that needs to be told and should've been told a long time ago. It is because of your amazing work I am able to stand here and take only a fraction of the credit. To my agent, who thanks for getting me this job.

'To my children, I love you so much. I hope you think dad's a little cooler now. To my mum, whom I love and know is watching this at home. And to my dad, who I miss every day but I know... I know is here,' he choaks on the words as you watch, knowing you smudged your make up. Hugh turned to look at you and not the room, smiling through tears.

'And to you, my love, my reason for everything I do. You are the real heart of this movie, and you are my heart. My one and only. This is your award as much as mine. And I am yours. I love you so much, so, so much. I could stand up here and talk for hours about how much I love you, but I won't because I want to sit where you are and watch you win yours. I love you! Thank you!'

He holds up the award and blows you a kiss before walking off the side of stage.

You knew the camera was on you as you stood up again and cheered, a tear down your cheek.

Ryan walked back out on stage, this time, dressed in a cosplay of the iconic Wolverine suit. They all laughed. 'Gee, Hugh, thanks. I-I love you to.'

There was an award or two and a break before Hugh was rushing back to you all.

You leapt in his arms as he cradled you close, handing his oscar to the director. His hands roamed your back, fingers bruising the skin there as he kissed your shoulder and neck. 'God, I can't believe it, I am so proud of you, baby.'

Hugh pulled back, looking down at you. 'I love you. I love you so much.' he pecked your head. He wouldn't kiss you, you guys had a plan for the camera's to get that.

Not long after you'd taken your seats, the nominations for best actress in a leading roll were led out by Robert Downy jr.

Hugh held onto you tightly, tighter than you had him. It wouldn't feel right if he walked home with one when you, the real star, didn't. But you couldn't care, you were more than happy to sit with Hugh for the rest of the night, for the rest of your life.

'And the oscar, goes to...' Robert trailed off, opening the envelope and taking his time. He took in a deep breath. 'Oh, my lovely dear, get up here. Y/N!'

Just as they had for Hugh, everyone around you cheers. Your first instinct is to lean forward, holding your head in your hands and hiding as Hugh hugs you, pulling your body into his and yelling in glee. Finally, you pull back and hug the director, keeping a hold on Hugh's hand, you say things to the writers before turning and throwing an arm around Hugh's neck.

You're still gripping his hand as he helps you to the stage, you trembling so much you dare not go without support. He kisses your hand and hugs you once more before leaving you to walk up the stage. The cheers grow louder as you greet Robert.

The man was like your father, after staring in how many Marvel movies together. He hugged you tightly, smiling at you and bowing to present you with the oscar.

You approached the microphone, tears in your eyes as you did and everyone clapped. You waited until you could hear a pin drop until you took a deep breath. 'This is stressful as shit,' the people laugh. 'Oh my- thank you! Everyone! Thank you Robert! To all the other amazing, talented and intelligent nominees, I give a piece of this oscar to you all cause you were all amazing, truly!' you celebrate.

'Thank you to the director, to the writers, the cast, the crew. This story meant so much to me but more to all of you and you worked incredibly hard every day, your talent aspired me to work harder and thank you cause now I got one of these,' you show them the oscar, laughing. The crowd chuckle with you.

The camera cuts to Hugh, who watches you with stars in his eyes, reflecting in a pool of his tears.

'Oh god, who else. My agent, thank you. I appreciate it. Um, thanks to me I guess for being a good actress,' you shrug as the room laughs. 'I should probably thank Ryan or he'll force Hugh to do another Wolverine. Hugh,' you focus on him as the crowd chuckles. 'I am so in love with you. I didn't think a heart was capable of beating with so much love but it does- mine does- for you. All time. I love you more than words can describe, more than the whole sky. Thank you all! Thank you!'

Just as Hugh had, you head off to the stage, taking Roberts hand as he smiles and kisses your temple before leading you off.

Backstage, you and Hugh took to doing the interview together. They clapped as you appeared, hand in hand. Both of you looked dishevelled. Your hairs messy, Hugh's collar tugged and your dress crinkled at the end. Your lipstick was smudged too but you still managed some class. While Hugh looked like he'd been laid for the first time.

Still, you held onto each other with one hand and your oscars with the other.

'Hello!' greeted Hugh.

You giggled, hiding your face as Hugh coax's you to stand up, but laughs with you.

Many serious questions were asked as you and Hugh tried your best to pay attention.

'Y/N you looked great tonight, I just want to know what was the process of getting to look so good?' a man asked.

You chuckled, thinking about it as Hugh hid his grin, watching you. 'The process was... um... I took a shower, shaved just in case, you know, I got lucky tonight,' you nudged your hips with Hugh's smirking, 'I raided my friends wardrobe, found this old thing, it fit thank god. And um, yeah?'

Hugh barked a laugh as the crowd laughed at your antics, you having to bend over to laugh with him. Finally, he straightened up, wiping tears from his eyes. 'Sorry, what a night.'

'What a night,' you agreed. 'We've been celebrating so.'

The crowd again laugh, guessing just how the two of you have been celebrating.

As best you can, you answer a couple more questions before you were swooped away to take pictures, Hugh's arm falling lower and lower down your back until it was reasting above your ass.

Some reporter wolf whistled as you guys went and Hugh gripped you, bending his head to kiss you. It wasn't how you'd planned, but he needed to kiss you. Sure, your lips had been all around him less than ten minutes ago, but it wasn't enough, was never enough.

The two of you took your pictures with best actor and supporting actress. All four of you posing together, when it came to just you and Hugh, the two of you were laughing messes as you angled your oscars to kiss like a kid would with barbies.

Then, Hugh wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and drew you in until he was kissing you, his lips moulding on yours, hand gripping you and camera's flashing.

The next day, Ryan was wearing a shirt of that iconic shot.

taglist (thank you!): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory, @wolfyychan, @chaimshelii,

#deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #logan howlett #wolverine #deadpool #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #x men #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman wolverine #deadpool wolverine #deapool and wolverine #james logan howlett

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kooyabooya · 4 months

Text

BABYLON

m reader x sana // 26k words

Almighty hand to God, there had been much, much worse situations to get yourself stuck in.

If there’s any sort of consolation to fall back on, you’d wish that you’d say something earlier, call this off with a simple push and shove on the way out the door, close it and wrap up nicely with no worry filling your mind.

It’s not that easy, though.

Never was to begin with.

Not when you have the lights off in your study, the sound of laughs downstairs surrounding the dining table, really fucked how you’ve hidden away from everyone else - also wanting to at the same time because all of them would have the same thread of thoughts running through their head if they saw you at the front of your desk with another body pressed towards you.

“Don’t get so worked up,” Sana tells you, lips fast across your neck while her singular hand is well deep into the grip of your shaft. You could feel her breath slip through the opening when her lips are back on yours, the taste of her is already addicting the more she leans, a hand in her hair trying to give more, fighting, but losing drastically.

What you give, Sana takes. That’s usually how it works in most cases like these with her. You can’t stop, you won’t stop. It’s already difficult to break away once she’s lowering your inhibitions without the use of alcohol.

“Maybe I should deal with you right now instead of later,” you tell her, hiding the smallest hint of worry when your hands find Sana’s hips. She’s proud of the sigh she lets out against your mouth when pulling away before you’re quick to drag her back in. “Let the whole world below know of the things you’re doing to me right now?”

You won’t stop giving in, because Sana gets you. Just like that.

“Have them screaming in shock when you bend me over the desk fucking me?” Sana asks, a tempting offer above a whisper at that. It also doesn’t help that she’s giggling at the thought of you doing exactly what she proposes. “Sounds hot,” she says, huskily, “because I know you would.”

This was never supposed to happen. Hell, this was the last thing you expected to happen. All of the possibilities in repercussions start flowing through your head again because this was definitely not the first time you’ve surrendered yourself to Sana’s advances, nor that you didn't want to.

She’s like quick sand, pulling you from underneath into the catacombs of temptations that would have Satan himself impressed if he could see you right now. Or how this woman at her fingertips is breaking down every last bit of rational support running through your brain just so that she can draw out the rasps of desperation to get her screaming, shuddering.

You could lower the flag and raise up the drawbridges - it’s so easy to do. She’s playing all of her cards right, knowing that your hand would never stack up against hers.

Forget calling a bluff in this house of cards, since the only play you have in your book is to fold.

–

You see, the events that happened before the wildfire were relatively tame.

Nothing but wins coming left and right in the avenue of your life. Speaking of avenues, there’s this newly acquired house (all thanks to your surprisingly good credit score) alongside this block that has a new occupant–

“Babe, the place is amazing!” Dahyun exclaims out, arms around your neck once you and her finally make it past the front porch, taking in the high ceilings and matte layout of the new space. All of this wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for the countless days and hours of work to achieve this milestone. You’ll be proud of yourself for settling down while others may be working for bigger goals and ambitions.

(A minor correction: two new occupants.)

The house itself is in a nice area. Not too far from the city, in a pretty well modest community, alongside the hills. Detailing is pretty modern: four bedrooms, three bathrooms, two stories, kitchen was renovated before signing off the lease, ideas for rooms themselves are already drafting from Dahyun’s pinterest board. Knowing that your wife has some good taste, it wasn’t worth deliberating over. You’ve gone through the gauntlet of places in different areas: beachside, close by to your cousins, one was also about a two hour trip away from the city, there’s also this high rise apartment that would’ve been a perfect choice though it never happens.

There’s some scattered boxes here and there still, but most of the things are already in place from the whole moving process. Aside from all the heavy lifting and not wanting to stain the ring on your finger from the dust and oil when the truck broke down on one of four trips, the beauty of being able to be grounded by the tune of Dahyun’s laughs and witty banter when you’re trying to catalog and take inventory of the things that will be kept and what’s going up for the garage sale you plan to have within the next week or so.

“I’m just glad that we finally got it over with.” You put her down, eyes overseeing the view past the spacious living room, as well as the boardwalk-esque deck housing the pool right outside. “Absolute hell trying to get the final documents signed, but finally.”

“I’m so proud of you honey,” Dahyun tells you, hand to your cheek with the most reassuring look that she’s known for giving in your times of crisis. “Had I known that we’d actually get the house after almost signing off on the last place with Jeongyeon–”

“Our luck was pretty much cut out for us,” you amend, though she’s not thinking of the ‘what could’ve been’ - since the here and now was all that mattered to Dahyun. You wanted this, and she did too. The agreement was not hard to fight over; sights were set, end of discussion.

“We should give our credit to Jeongyeon for referring us to this place,” Dahyun starts again, trailing off with hands behind her back, chin up when she walks in deeper. Her gaze turns back to you, leaning on the pillar when you’re staring up at the intricate set of lights hanging over the couch. “Didn’t you say this listing was about to be taken down at the last minute?”

“Almost,” you answer, hugging Dahyun again with your nose in her hair, “Gladly got the call as soon as I found out.”

Dahyun twists around, arms circling her waist, pulling her closer under your touch. She’s happy, giddy when the tip of your nose is nuzzling hers for a quick second. Cliché, corny even, but you’re in love and she’s in love - something that the new home will be more filled with for years to come.

“Shouldn’t we empty out the rest of the remaining boxes?” you ask her, hands curling inward on the small of her back, leaning in slowly for the softness of her fingertips across your face, the plushness of her lips on yours.

This was a brand new start, a turn of the page in the livelihood of things, one act onto the next.

–

Here’s the thing about new beginnings, most of these aspects are supposed to be taken in a positive light.

Most of the time.

The subject of change itself is frightening, can make someone anxious at times because of the uncertainty of how things would play from here on out. Naturally, it’s normal for human beings to feel like this - this daunting notion in being uncomfortable because of this collective notion of ‘being stuck in the past’ or ‘to relive the glory days’. Nostalgia is believed to be one of the great unsaid drugs that everyone takes unknowingly without even realizing it.

Luckily, you’re not facing things alone around these parts of life now.

Kim ‘the introverted but somewhat still a social butterfly’ Dahyun has this effect on others that makes her extremely likable. Hell, if it weren’t for that characteristic, the ring on her finger wouldn’t have been there in the first place. She just has this quintessential quirk of just being able to click with others like it's nothing, almost as if she’s known someone she’s just met for more than five years.

It’s an art in itself to admire, a playlist of clips in your mind that you’ll keep replaying over and over whenever the instance occurs.

You’re willing to be a people person while she does it effortlessly.

Not even a week after getting settled in, Dahyun was already getting acquainted with the nearby neighbors opposite and adjacent to your place while you’re busy getting the groceries in (since one or two trips are always the priority for the efficiency of less work.)

If you’re looking at your new house from the street and inwards, the home on your left is owned by Jihyo. She’s lovely, adventurous, mostly in and out of the house on a daily basis. You lean an ear into the conversation while Dahyun’s getting her small garden going that Jihyo was also a pilates coach, the hint taken with the amount of lululemon products she wears and has in her closet in the brief exchanges of hello’s and head nods. In the next house over to the right, there was Chaeyoung’s place. Dahyun tells you over dinner a few nights ago that Chaeyoung is this underground indie artist that’s hardly home because of her tour scheduling and the fact that she’s in London for her Europe leg on the calendar, but was home for a quick break since her brother just came back from the mandatory military service.

“You know, when I first looked into this cul de sac, I didn’t expect to live next to a considerable amount of celebrities.” you say, tending to the raw set of patties spread across the grill while the backyard of your house was transformed to this small, homey, kickback-style of a housewarming party with nearly everyone invited along the street. “Too early to say I’ve hit the jackpot?”

“Please,” Jihyo starts, the cup of bourbon in her hand swirling while the smoke is up in the air, “I think you think too highly of this community a lot.”

“Everyone has something special going on around here, which is nice.”

“A silent observer,” she murmurs at you, “Dahyun likes that about you, the ability to read people. You could honestly pass that as your hidden talent.”

“I may not be a people person like her, but if the conversation persists–”

“He has no problem slotting himself into it like it’s nothing.” Dahyun says over your shoulder, arm snaking your middle while she’s pressing a kiss into the blend of your shirt while you’re flipping burgers on the clock. “The best at it too.”

Even through the shades of your glasses, you lean over with Dahyun scooching to your left. A white bucket hat is all you see through the lens that’s shielding the top of her head with the monochrome scheme she has with her dress and shirt. Simplicity at its finest with the way she swipes your drink for a quick clink with Jihyo’s before downing it after.

There’s this mix of food and drinks being dished out, there’s a lot of simple activities spread out across the yard. Some people are in the pool with White Claws on the cupholders of the floaties, another group is playing spikeball that one of them brought over for more variety with the hoop on the outer rim of the boardwalk, the set table for beer pong, and essentially some others that were scribbled off the shopping list.

You’re weaving in and out of different groups throughout the houseparty - the role of being the host of the party really shows with the amount of times you’ve checked in with everyone in the span of ten to fifteen minutes. It’s all in good graces really, to set a solid first impression while the ambience really sets everyone into a mood. Cooling down once the sunset hits, and all of a sudden the influx of drinks being passed around might be mistaken as a frat party.

Aside from the inquiries of passing more drinks, you’ve noticed the stigma that’s seeping through the guest’s faces when you’re indulging in conversations, a hierarchy of sorts. And when they see you get cozy in the seat, that’s when the questions occur.

Mina, the person living in the house on the opposite side of your street asks: so what’s your daytime occupation, if you don’t mind me asking?

Quick on the draw, you answer: Currently working in data science from the comforts of my home. Oh, and I also dabble with a little bit of history to a minor stance.

“The world doesn’t thank enough people who aren’t willing to move for a charitable cause.” Her tone is nonchalant, almost flat. That simple black dress she’s wearing, the outline of her figure that may look unreal at first glance, the way her leg is folded on top that signifies that she’s all class, a tilt of her head that has you leaning back ever so slightly. “Are you this some sort of- house husband then? Given the way you’ve been tending to us around the party so far?”

“God no,” you answer, hand up in defense while you’re casually leaning for the unattended cup of Lager that was brought in by Jihyo’s fling? Booty call? Friend with some benefit? It wouldn’t matter since he’s athletic enough to have his own chain of gyms as a fine investment. “Call me a clean freak, but I get by with my duties around the new place.”

“What does Dahyun do again?” Lisa, another neighbor just a few houses down chimes in, “You said that she’s–”

“A corporate lawyer,” you say, catching Dahyun in your peripheral view who’s laughing with another guest that seemed to just make their way into the late afternoon. Hand to the back of your head while racking it, “She’s pretty damn good at her job too.”

You get a collective nod from the two women when you keep your mouth partly open with a tongue nicking the inside of your bottom lip. Logistically, Dahyun was a key counterpart in her firm, the way that she’s her bosses’ right hand when it comes to finishing off deals whether the fact it came down to mergers or closing cases. She’s always one to speak her mind, not willing to play nice or by the book.

Generally, a lawyer’s job tends to be stressful at times, given the unhealthy hours depending on what lands on her desk first thing when she walks in, early or not. If Dahyun needs some downtime, you’d give it to her - something about it that she coined you to be her sleeping pill.

(Kinda funny, though.)

However, there was this whole ordeal of some big litigation incident with one of the firm’s associated parties. Something about the high ranking chairman and close member convicted of fraud and if the press found out about it, the whole door gets blown up and it turns into an absolute shit show. Dahyun’s boss had her spearhead the whole thing and as a big token of appreciation, she managed to get time off.

The apartment prior was starting to get a little bit cramped, so she brought up the idea of moving while eating out for lunch one afternoon and that was that.

Explains how the house acquisition was more simple to deal with, considering how you’re good with numbers and finances, but that’s all to know.

Tech savvy, is what Mina tells you, taking out of it with a margarita in her hand while you raise your cup in acknowledgement, breaking away from the set of couches around the makeshift bonfire pit. Ever the sentry, unintentional but it’s what a good party host does to get to know new faces, right?

Like the ping pong ball on the table, you’re bouncing around the backyard again, avoiding the splash zone of the pool when you slide across the makeshift bar of different varieties of drinks off to the right of the sliding door, cups riddled both half full and empty that’ll have to be dealt with eventually later, or in the next morning - whichever one happens first. A frame of mind falls into the same habit, picking up the clutter for a bit before you could treat yourself to another choice of booze or wine you’ll fish out of the kitchen once done.

Nothing would prepare you for the extra set of small hands swooping in the table to keep tight on the slack.

She seems familiar, not long term familiar, but something that you’ve caught yourself having a double take at for a quick second only to forget a couple seconds later. A quick spike of the heartbeat, that’s also something that you’re very torn on in that moment - running back a necessary subroutine in your memory banks to check that you’re - well, you.

“I take you’re the guy Dahyun was praising about.” she says, her voice cheery with that simple but sly smile of hers that’s stabbing daggers into your heart. “Find it hard to believe that you’re her husband, actually.”

The solo cups slide in smoothly, placing it back in the respective stack while this girl is tending to the crushed water bottles and cans in that small plastic bag she’s putting them in. A small contribution at that, but a helpful gesture that you’ll indirectly accept once the plastic is tied and in the bin.

“And what are you trying to say?” you start, arm bearing your hand when you stand square across from her. “Was it everything that you hoped to expect?”

Unbuttoned baseball jersey, those high top sneakers and short shorts giving a slight peek into her figure from the down up. Her tank top also raised enough to show her toned midsection that looks tapered and detailed. Casual, you think, perfect for the summer vibe that you could honestly put a lei over her neck and all of a sudden this party is a fucking luau.

“Hon!” a voice calls out to you in the distance, approaching you and the girl from the other side of the yard. When that person gets closer, it turns out to be Dahyun who immediately grins at the sight of you looking all curious. “Oh! Good, I’ve managed to get you two both together.”

“But you didn’t do anything.”

“Who said that I was the one to start it?”

“Coming from the person who’s all for taking the credit for herself.”

“Always the pleaser,” the girl laughs out loud, Dahyun closing in with her fingers intertwining with hers. There’s history to them - not even a second thought to track back, it’s all there right in front of you to see. It also clicks in your head that this girl was also the same one that Dahyun was gleefully excited to see back in your sit-in with Mina and Lisa.

The exchange of happy glances abruptly stops when Dahyun catches you with an arched brow, looking for answers, and to this she just smiles downward because how could she forget with the formalities, it’s silly. “Babe, I’d like you to meet Minatozaki Sana, one of my closest friends since college.”

“Sana,” you say, and when the syllables reverberate past the oral cavity and into the air, it rolls off the tongue nicely. “I see, friend of Dahyun’s?”

“Indeed I am,” she says, extending her hand as a peaceful offering - not even realizing the turmoil that’s running through your head while hiding it effortlessly. The way her hand fits in yours, her whole body looks delicate like she’s handmade with God’s well crafted time; she’s also a few inches taller than Dahyun (by two for the accurate calculation), you’ve got Dahyun to mold into the threads of the mattress and now imagine–

“I was wondering who was getting Dahyun a bit excited at the gate when you came in,” you say as you’re pouring yourself another cup of brandy this time, since the other drinks were relatively tame for your high alcohol tolerance. “Now with a face to the name, I gotta say, you’re pretty likable already.”

Bottom line, it’s really curious to act this way. Clearly, you’re smiling at the fact that she’s standing there with her arms crossed, you’ve placed your cup down filling the next one, because another wouldn’t hurt.

So how did you and Dahyun meet, you say - palm flat on the foldable table that sends the drinks sloshing slightly at the change in stable weight. I would assume that the story in itself is an interesting one, I hope?

Sana and Dahyun have this exchanging look between the two of them, the infatuation of how their minds are interlinked. These two have been through everything, despite the differences in majors and fields of work - the bond that they have is admirable. “What do you know about me that Dahyun has told you?”

“Whatever that wasn't ordinary already,” you reply. “What also boggles my mind is that–”

“If she told you about the time I almost had to blow my professor to give me a passing grade, she’s dead wrong. It never happened.” That star-stricken grin that has you pouting slightly and rolling your eyes because her answer has you completely way off of left field.

Not that, you add on but-hmm it can only make you wonder of the kinds of things that happened in that period of youth, before Dahyun came along into your life albeit a simple nudge of the shoulder while passing between working schedules. A part of the script of life that’s rewritten in itself and jesus - it’ll sit in the comfy nook of your brain while it sends your heart and gut flipping in all directions.

Let that be a new doc or spreadsheet for you to graph out in your mind, because there’s a lot to compute and learn into getting this right.

–

So it actually turns out that Sana’s the next door neighbor living on the left of your house. She just wasn’t there during the whole moving process before the housewarming party because like Mina, Sana was out and about seeing the world - something about putting some miles in her life trying to cross off one or two things off the bucket list, maybe more.

There’s only some noticeable details to keep track of in a few:

* Said somewhere along the lines of having a fear of heights? Lost a bet to her cousin and went skydiving to get over it.

* Well-spoken, considering that she was in Dahyun’s undergrad cohort before she had a change of heart in her choice of major, leading towards the pipeline of communication studies or working with kids, cute.

* She’s an only child in the family and very accepting of the fact of having a big house to herself (since Juile, her housemate who was also paying for half of the place but hardly around to live inside and still depositing the rent when it was time). Lonely, one might say out of sympathy but that would be undermining her success till now.

* Oh, and that story of her blowing her professor to get a passing grade? Hard to believe how it’s true and very similar to a common storyline you’ve surfed incognito on the internet before.

“Look,” and she says this with a whole hearted laugh when you’re behind her and Dahyun walking out of the side gate. “It was only a one time thing, I swear and plus,” you’re having flash of doubt when Dahyun looks over, and you’re terrible at hiding it because it’s in your eyes, a shake of the head in disbelief when Sana’s shoulders slouch, “we were sophomores that hated that fuckass professor so much, I was willing to take the fall.”

“And you did, but thank god there’s no proof of documentation that recounts such events like those, right? Right?”

A prompting cough deviates the ongoing conversation, “I assume that everything was handled then?” To this, Sana nods - right hand swearing under oath, smiling earnestly with those eyes of hers, left hand supporting her elbow. She’s distracting with how her tank top peeks out with her chest open slightly. In the court of law, she could never get away with testifying let alone convince the grand jury. “I mean, what would happen if there was something that’s sizable enough to damage your image of being this good-willed human being?”

“Then everyone would watch the world burn if that were the true, but I’m cautious of my digital footprint, always making sure that my track record is clean.”

(She’s in the same pedigree as Mina, Lisa, and pretty much everyone that’s occupying the boulevard: poised, casual, stable, know themselves all too well to get what they want - because they always do, it’ll have your head turning from the moment they walk in to when they leave the table. Dahyun gave you the brief rundown about her circle of friends; they’re good people, not wanting to let the finer things of life get to them, stay true to their words, grounded even.)

It’s how the amber light of your garage door shines above that gives Sana this radiating shade of copper in her hair. You’d offer to walk her back to her place if it wasn’t just a few steps away. Better yet, Dahyun would’ve permitted you to do so if you were to ask right now, but it’s fine. The grace period of life works in mysterious ways, funny how this sense of nostalgia comes back when you see two lovely girls play the game of catch-up, hugging after not seeing each other for a couple years.

Tuning back in to the image:

“I’m baffled you’ve managed to land a house like this, especially with your money and the amount of back breaking work you do on a daily basis. Twenty trials? You’re a fucking workaholic.”

The pair of them laugh together, it’s really heartwarming to listen.

Still,

“-plus the extended vacation time you just got-” Sana sounds like a kid on the last days of school trying to come up with a multitude of things to waste time while Dahyun just listens to her rambling; eyes curving up with stupid smiles and the head tilts as if the secrets being exchanged are not meant to be spoken of to others, they look good together, wow. Have we checked the calendar if it’s Pride month still?

When they turn toward you, the actions seem unreal to register. Dahyun’s monolids contrast Sana’s double eyelids, the way Sana’s eyes especially look almond like. Her smile is a little smaller compared to Dahyun’s and when they’re just freely cuddling each other without any spite of jealousy beneath it.

They’re leaving you dumbfounded, consider yourself to be humbled.

Sana breaks the hug first before she lets out an overreaching hand for you to shake. You’ll admit on another given day to Dahyun that Sana’s pretty, the small pull hinting at her smile all the more reason to give a positive outlook for first impressions that will also have you wondering how in the hell isn’t she in a relationship yet. Overkill when she does the line with her eyes while keeping the same smile when mirroring Dahyun’s expression, too.

“Same number as always?” Dahyun asks, clinging onto her hand like she’s going away for a sizable amount of time. “I got nothing for the next couple of weeks.”

“I’ll just walk over and ring the doorbell, don’t bother.” Sana’s answer is optimistic, and you’re hoping she’ll stick to her word because you’re willing to break the lines, the yellow tape at the scene, and ignore the lines of ink blacked out for confidentiality assurance.

You and Dahyun say good night, and she’s just happily bouncing along the sidewalk into her own front yard.

“She likes you, by the way.” Dahyun tells you, slotting herself right underneath your right arm while you’re squinting to see absolutely nothing in the darkness, not even tuned in to what your wife was telling you. A few sweeps of looks across the street pass and you’re rubbing warmth on her shoulder, only to nudge your head slightly to finally hear.

“Sana’s…interesting.” you say, blinking, looking down at Dahyun’s gaze before your eyes shoot away scouring for something else to eye at in the short meantime before a light slap to the stomach sends you snorting out of the quick annoyance. “Hey, based on how she acted, I would’ve thought she’d be anything but ordinary.”

“She’s done some stupid shit, that’s for sure.” Dahyun signs to her own admission, seeing it first hand of the stories that were told an hour ago. “Though, she’s gotten better once I convinced her to see things in a different perspective.”

“Could’ve passed as a good lawyer if you asked me.”

“Please tell me that’s satirical.”

“Wasn’t planning to say, but I guess it just happened.”

A close of the gate and up the steps into the front door, easy to say that getting yourself settled in for once in your life doesn’t seem to be that bad of an idea. The plans themselves are just getting started, drawing them up on the itinerary sometime later this week will get a number of things going.

–

Apparently nobody saw this coming, and let this be an error in the calculations because evidently, this whole ‘summer in the hamptons’ type thing was about to be undermined entirely.

Turns out on the following day, Dahyun gets this business call at around three in the morning, and the phone just keeps vibrating on the nightstand. She eventually lets you off slumbering with the lamp on while she goes to the couch to hear what her boss was egging on about for what you think would be a short call, but it wasn’t.

What you eventually find out hours later is that Dahyun was called in to help play defense in this big lawsuit that was deemed to be ‘the second coming of the Watergate Scandal’. God, those news anchors and journalists need to do a better job of nailing the creative writing aspect because it was just fucking awful when they’re reporting it at eight in the morning after. Apparently you’re also reading an article online on your desktop about Dahyun’s firm coming under fire for a sizable client that’s been doing murky deals behind their backs that would not only jeopardize one branch of the corporate relationship, but all the potential deals that have yet to be signed. It’s a mess. Though, work shouldn’t even be the thought since Dahyun’s pulling out all of these boxes that were related to this case out all over the dining room table that she has to bring back to her office and whatever was on the menu for the boat party next week that you’re having with close family and friends was about to be canceled.

And this has happened on many occasions, but if it involved Dahyun or anything related to the law firm she holds dearly to her heart (of course, you’re first, obviously) the support in her endeavor would always be important to protect.

“I just hoped that they were able to handle this quietly, and without my help.” You’re dipping your head down to spit the last taste of mint from your mouth. Dahyun leans forward on the sink with her ankles crossed, wearing one of your shirts blinking dutifully, quite zoned out while her hand is over your hamstring, tapping it gingerly.

“Well if that were the case, then they would’ve called you in anyway.” You say, raising an eyebrow with the tinge of mouthwash cycling in and out when you spit again. “So much for having your rewarded vacation time.”

Dahyun leans back against the mirror when she’s putting her hair up in this messy bun. She looks a little more relaxed compared to the ragged breaths down your ear when your cock was buried inside her, clinging to your neck while that vicious upstroke of your hips sends her absolutely blown out. The look she gives with her pleading eyes when you take the toothbrush out of her mouth, washing it after she leans over to spit out the toothpaste before handing a washcloth for you to wipe yourself with. “You think I shouldn’t go.”

“Wasn’t really bringing that up for you to consider, but judging how this looks from the outside in, I’d say it’s pretty bad.”

“You’re really not helping my train of thought here,” she sighs, hands bearing her waist, the crinkles of your shirt on her subtly showing that petite frame, the image itself recorded in your memory banks loads of times - each one just like the first, if not better.

Sliding over a few inches to where she sits there idly, your hands placed on the outer rim where her knees bend over the marble counter. She doesn’t change her posture when you’re looking her in the eyes trying to get a read on what her next move might be. Still elegant as ever, Dahyun will always put this appearance on even when it's the simple domestic life she’s living.

Energy levels are still high, and the initial action was to get back to watching this sappy rom-com kdrama that bored Dahyun to the point where she slipped a hand inside your sweatpants just to ‘spice things up a bit’. Once the prompted question of are you still watching appears on the screen after minutes of inactivity, no point in answering it while she’s happily fucking herself over you while you’re sprawled across the satin sheets, gripping into her perfect waist with the sound of her hips with yours bouncing off the new walls.

When’s the flight? You ask her, hand sliding up her thigh slowly. I could put in a word for your associate to get that done, save the trouble. Inevitably, the jaws of justice will soon swallow her up again when she manages to break free from the shackles of court orders and depositions.

“First thing at nine,” she answers, fingers tugging at the midpoint of where the seam of your shirt and the waistband of your sweats meet. “Got some things to pack up soon, but I think most of the papers and boxes won’t be a lot for me to carry on the quick plane trip back.”

“Crazy that they get paid for a short flight from upstate.”

“In addition to the fact that they’re also on my dad’s payroll.”

“A plus I might admit.” you muse.

Dahyun shifts her gaze from right to left, spreading her legs wider when you scoot her hips up to meet yours. The hum of satisfaction that she gives when your eyes flick up to see that rosy shade of pink plastered across her face, eyes waiting, honing on something that she subjects that will be given to her. Precision was one of her key strengths, but when that’s used against her, it’s a completely different story.

When she tugs a little bit more on your undershirt to lift, she usually does so with this sense of security - like a kind of clinginess that you won’t have any sort of complaint against. You’ve understood it to a degree. Whether you’re dropping by the office of the firm or being dragged into the kitchen after sitting on your chair for hours and hours doing analytics and business calls, moments like these with Dahyun are always something to behold. Considerably, you don’t mind giving into her needs for attention; in fact, you’re willing to do that without even thinking twice.

“So,” Dahyun prompts with this sultry voice of hers, clueless and innocently - as if she has no idea what she’s doing to you. With her (your) shirt rumpled all over her body, those pretty eyelashes, her creamy thighs, the way that her fingers are grazing the elastic of both your sweats and boxers, you begin to assess the conditions when you’ve nestled yourself in between her knees, some water staining the gray cotton when you finally lean closer. “How are you gonna handle yourself while I’m gone?”

“I think you’ll lay the severance package,” you say, not giving any faltering sense when she’s ghosting her set of fingertips on the right hand across your chest. “If there’s damages to it, I don’t mind paying up.”

“Non-compete or NDA,” Dahyun huffs, lifting the outer seam of the shirt past her hips, showing the opening underneath where her pussy is glistening with her slick, awaiting your end of the bargain, this non-verbal agreement where she knows that you’ll always deliver the requests and offers. “Besides, you still owe me.”

Laughing, you do recall the statement. It’s funny - there’s a trade off throughout the day earlier where you’re awoken to her warm mouth, deepthroating your cock that leaves you with these sharp inhales. The way her jaw slacks of how she sucks, the mix of spit lathering all over your length while she’s bobbing away between your thighs at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. Even after Dahyun takes care of the morning wood situation, you pay her back by eating her pussy freely on the kitchen counter as the logical option to keep yourselves occupied while waiting for the oatmeal. There’s no competition between the two of you of who makes the other cum the fastest, the hardest, let alone how many rounds can you do in a day; it really just boils down to this one simple look, a push-pull that sends the neurons firing away automatically - fucking each other ‘just because’ to put it simply.

This girl on the bathroom sink, slouching, head against the mirror still while your hands finally snake under her shirt, feeling the unbelievable midsection under the breasts when she lowers her eyes, leaning up for the touch of your lips.

Every kiss, stolen or prolonged, each one always has the flaps in your heart opening. She’s yours.

Tender at first, but then the heat gets raised up when her arm hooks onto your waist, fighting the slipping tongue that’s breaking away for a slight second in her mouth. Her hands are also grasping for any kind of reach for her to clutch on, no luck for it when she finally takes her fingers into your hair, not wanting to pull away.

Dahyun does this little whine after the quick inhale of air when you slip a finger or two inside her bare cunt, testing the waters as she bites her lip in anticipation. “Don’t do that now,” she spits. That obscene noise coming out of her instantly after when she bucks her hips forward again, accidentally curling a finger in her warm cunt that makes her look away from your intense gaze. “Darling, please–”

“Use your words honey,” you whisper against her lips when you’re tugging on her bottom lip, causing her to sit up straight on the counter, slotting her arms around your neck with hands circling her waist. “Can’t really hear what you’re saying if you’re mopping my face up.”

She’s losing her sense of focus when your fingers continue to bottom out the whole length of them, filling her up and pushing deeper. It also doesn’t help when your thumb presses flat on her clit that sends her mewling at the bend. Her face is against your neck, the steady pace of those staggered breaths against your skin keeps your current operation on the clock, unraveling this line when you’re slipping in and out of her.

“Baby, baby, baby, please–” her heel locks the back of your thigh in place, hitting a kneecap on the cabinet. She’s reduced to these simple words and responses with the heavy breathing. Her hips are nearly coming off the glassy surface of the sink. The shirt’s lifted up beneath her perky mounds (and that fucking underboob is a national treasure in itself), the seal of your mouth is all over her throat: pulling, kissing, gnawing. You kinda feel bad for the concealer pack she’s gonna be using later for a brief afterthought.

Although this little contest of edging Dahyun out to cum wasn’t on the cards for tonight. You’re managing this smile when she pulls the hair tie out of her hair, letting it flow freely. This look of post-sex yet natural style that she does makes you stare in awe when you pull her hips more out at the edge, the way her elbows are propped up nicely and her legs are spread even wider. Her hand pulls the shirt higher, showing her breasts now, the preferred choice of marks that were left there as a reminder from earlier. You slip out of the sweatpants and boxers, fixed on the brushing of her bare cunt just millimeters away from dipping yourself - a teasing tip, then the first couple inches at the half - and that shudder from her hips catches you off guard.

“Yes,” Dahyun moans out that matches your sigh in perfect timing. A moment’s hesitation, replaced with the second necessary action to sink yourself into her more, parting her walls nicely, slowly, until you feel all of her wrapped around you.

She gasps, mewling, spilling out this chain of hitched breaths, “god. honey, your cock–”

It all slides out for a second. Unreal. Then you slam back into her again. Pacing was always the methodical approach, a line into the protocol when Dahyun is writhing in the drag of your cock fucking deep into her cunt, she’s biting her lip at the fact that she’s shimming her legs more out, wanting to choke herself down the length. My god, you’d love to keep the look she has on her face, lips parted at how badly she just wants you to split her in two, seeing the last hint of her pupils rolling back into her brain when you skate the palms of your hands across her stomach, clutching onto her perky breast when the tempo starts to increase.

When your hands finally nestle into the curve of her hips, they stay there. They’re already at a good place when your cock finally feels all of her, so wet, so tight. A slight throb along the length when you drag yourself out, that small pocket of air escaping before the vice seals shut again. She’s unbelievably perfect, one label off the list from your head when you’re fixed on the sight of your length disappearing inside her, head tilting forward with every stroke back in.

“You’re so - mmh,” Dahyun hitches her breath, shuddering, you could feel the rise and fall of her chest when your hand clutches her thigh. A choked out sob leaves her lips, and you’re impressed at the composure of nailing her cunt, the same spot being hit deep, even deeper, to that one area where she’s lost herself before. “Fucking big for me, this cock - feels so good-”

“Dahyun...” you hiss, shifting your hands down to the soft cushion of her ass, sinking down once again, then another, and then another, sliding her out across the counter before you’re driving her back in, this never-ending piston into the fiery pit of heat, stretching her out, twisting that nimble body of hers into your own creation, coaxing every exhale you catch from her abdomen. “Your pussy is so–”

What you meant to say was, “your pussy is so fucking tight, god damnit-” You know what, the thought can barely even be formed in your head when you meet Dahyun’s eyes, slowly fluttering shut with her teeth slowly disappearing behind her lip. That, and the feeling of her walls imploding your cock to the remnants of awareness you had left.

It’s also pretty funny to think how Dahyun was fucking herself freely over you just an hour ago, only for her to be used like this and she knows you simply can’t help yourself.

“Love, I can’t - shit,” that utterance nearly takes everything ouight of you to say; everything about it is euphoric, the way you have her legs up, bottoming her out. You look at her again, and she has her hand over her mouth, trying to fight that natural clench when your cock fills the heat inside her. “You’re so good for me, spreading yourself open like this. Fuck.”

This is a case that you’ll take to your grave, knowing all of your wife’s body so well to the point that every kiss, thrust, moan, hell even the appearance when she’s like this for you will be more than enough to last as much as possible. Dahyun knows the switch off too - aside from the fact that she’s cock drunk every single fucking time you fuck her brains out - and she loves this. You see it in her pupils, the desperation to tear all the edges apart, the signal for you to finally wreck her in the way that she wants you to.

“Don’t stop,” she begs, chest heaving heavily when her legs wrap around your waist, propping herself up for you to take her waist into your chest, letting out these songs of pleas that’s encouraging you to get to that edge first. You could feel her body going limp, the support is almost reflexive while your hips continue to pummel her out.

“You-” you try to say. Fuck. It goes everything against the directive you’ve put yourself in, the noises of your skin clashing with hers, creating this filthy yet harmonious sound that only gets more and more harder. Dahyun’s breathless moans keep you in check when your motions start to get irregular, inconsistent, keeping yourself busy with your mouth all over her chest. “God, Dahyun–”

“Do it baby,” she whispers into the cuff of your ear, “Keep fucking my pussy. Pound me like this.” Her hand does this simple action, and it’s lethal. All it took was a simple palm to your cheek, it’s filled with little meaning but carries so much intimacy. Moans and grunts continue to slip out while you search for her eyes, feeling that pull in your waist, grip tightening and loosening as you’re mindlessly thrusting. “You’re getting close for me, aren’t you?”

“Honey,” and at this point you’ve got it all spun out of control, “You feel so fucking good.”

“I know, baby.” Dahyun ignores your words of affirmation, smirking. “You know what to do.”

God. She can kill you, bring you back to life, and kill you all over again. Begging was already done before, you’ve fucked her way past her orgasm on mulitiple occasions - using her as your cumdump; doesn’t matter what time of the day or what you’re doing. The endgame was always this: having you completely fucked out in that velvety smooth pussy of hers - all wet and warm enough for you to live in.

With your teeth gritting and a final huff of air blowing past your nostrils, you cum inside her, filling her sloppy cunt all the way up.

Dahyun is sinister, it’s not up for a fair debate. When she coos and hums into your ear canal, you’re battling every urge to just wrap your fingers all over the column of her throat, use the remaining bits of pulse in your member to get her screeching. Alas, you hold yourself back while the ropes of cum are spurting around her walls, her mouth also gaping open when the fourth and fifth pulse out your cock weakly.

There’s this pause soon after, a collection of breath between the two of you that constructs a reconsideration of your choices. Dahyun has this telepathic connection with your mind that makes the connection instantaneous - you don’t say anything because there’s this one look in her eyes, hanging in the atmosphere bathed with afterglow - and she knows.

When you do slide out of her swollen cunt, there’s a considerable amount of your cum dripping out of her, slapping the tip along the outside of her folds just to tease her before retreating away entirely. The image of her legs spread out and her back laid across the sink will be saved into your memory for you to look on sometime in the future, or maybe even next week.

“So,” you mutter, shaking off the small jitters of blood loss to the head when you’re massaging Dahyun’s thighs, “Have I paid off my case in due time?”

Dahyun chuckles, a single finger raised up from the wreck beneath to get a taste, licking her lips following the fingertip. She wiggles up on her hands to sit on the counter again, hair flipped to one side while she lets the shirt fall down to cover her body, “Hate to say it, but you always do.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I’m also saying that you could use my help.”

“Ha Ha,”

“What? I’m serious.”

“I’m serious. Well so am I.” Dahyun sarcastically says, slapping your hip that makes your cock jump suddenly. You can see the dashes appear on her face when she lets out this simple smile, the eyes disappearing reflecting the same expression on her lips. She could saunter around the courtroom making a solid case for the defense, but no one would know the fact she’s all liquid putty when you have your hands on her like this. “I appreciate the thoughtful offer, but I think someone’s gotta guard the house while I handle work.”

“I’m gonna hate you by the end of this.”

“How bout you flip me over and rail my ass on the sink again?”

You’re starting to curse that concrete jungle a little more by the end of it.

–

Okay, to cut to the chase, there might’ve been a slight miscalculation that you had panned out in your head.

You switch on the TV two days later and Dahyun’s already made her way back to ground zero in the city to handle this case, where it completely spirals into an absolute shitshow. All gloves are off when the story gets released out to the public, scapegoating one of Dahyun’s board members having themselves tangled in an affair with one of the staff. Sure, it could've been an analytical approach to brush off the heat that’s only growing by the second - a shitty attempt you might also think; either way, this trial was crucial for your wife’s firm to win because in the scenario that they lose, all credibility and positive imagery surrounding them will plummet and that equals no more lawyer work for Dahyun.

She was optimistic at first while on the phone with you, talking about how this case should’ve been a cakewalk to handle, predicting the possible time period of when she should come back home to finally relax with all that hard work paid off temporarily. You’re smiling at the fact that she sounds composed, no hint of stress lying in her tone, riding on that high when you have her bucking into your hips just an hour before her private plane trip to the firm.

It’s only a matter of time before all of this blows over, you think. Not your fault also when the house feels suddenly empty in the wake of this unexpected catastrophe.

You’re hearing this definition of a fortnight. As in, Dahyun’s projected time when she could get out of the office and have someone else handle the case on her behalf. A little unusual for her to indulge in the understanding of the term itself, not while you’re making yourself dinner with the chops of onions on the cutting board and the phone being on speaker off to the right side.

“Two weeks?” you’re asking, the dice of onion cubes being skated off into the pot left to boil while stirring. “That’s a pretty big ask for you to take up with your boss.”

“Why do you think I’m hitting you with the English lesson?”

“Babe, you’re talking about a term that was used in the freaking 1800s.” you laugh, leaning back on the counter, glass of water in your hand as one of the stupid actions that most people tend to do when talking to their crush. “Would’ve been better if you just said two weeks instead of a fortnight. What do you think I am? Some kid that’s withering their life away over some video game?”

“There you go again.” She laughs out loud. You can envision the picture of her rolling her eyes at you when you spew out complete nonsense that won’t comprehend in her brain since her lifestyle doesn’t line up with it.

“Sorry,” you mutter, smirking with a dimple poking out against the touchscreen. “Seriously, when do you think you’re gonna make it back?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it’ll be anytime soon.” she admits, hearing the click of your tongue over the speaker when you’re accepting the fact that her job might potentially be on the line if she were to leave early. “I know we said two weeks, but in this case-” You can hear her stop short when she clears the lump in her throat before continuing, “This trial might drag on for who knows how long? It might be a few days, two weeks, a month? Everything is laid out for us to fail.”

“And you won’t.” you tell her, reminding the positives going forward. “Maybe it could look bad, but I’m certain that you’ll do a good enough job with what you have to work with. I’m sure of that.”

That sigh of relief you hear through the phone. Yeah, you’re right. I get it. A little reassurance goes a long way for someone in her field dealing with that kind of work - not that you would relate or somewhat imagine what it would be like to be in Dahyun’s shoes, but aside from all bad things, you know that she’s headstrong to the point where none of this should even faze her in the first place.

“You know you can’t go back to the old place, dummy.” you laugh, opening the lid of the pot that unleashes a quick cloud of steam rising above the rim. “Where are you planning on staying in the meantime while working?”

“Minju has a guest room at her place.” Dahyun answers, “I’d figured that I should tell you this, but I think she and her associate are having a little thing together.”

“And this is news to me, how?”

“Because I’ve seen him and her get a lot closer than usual.” she adds, “You do remember that we have this policy that’s strict on relationships around the office–”

“But you and I, along with some other considerable names and high-ranking figures, are the exception. I know. We’ve been over this story a bunch of times already.”

Dahyun straightens herself up on the couch over the phone, folding her legs inward on the seat, sighing, smiling. “Are you eating dinner this late?”

“Well, if you consider ten-thirty to be late to have myself a meal, then yeah, you can call that to be a late dinner.”

“Rude,” she muses. “Can’t your wife have a little bit of curiosity about your day while being alone? Missing me?”

“I guess, but there’s nothing to report on my end.”

She hums, and you can picture the pout she’s putting on whenever you give her an open ended answer that could totally be expanded on if you just put the effort into it. Dahyun knows you're lazy to an extent when it’s off work hours, and she doesn’t blame you for that. “Have you been using your hand to keep yourself occupied while I’m gone, baby?”

“Sweetie,” you chuckle, tongue against the inside part of your bottom lip when you automatically realize what she’s trying to do - what she’s trying to make you do. “No, we’re not doing this.”

“Aw, why not?”

“Because I can only do so much to keep myself sane while you’re not here.”

“Fine,” Dahyun sighs out in defeat, and you turn off the stove to let the signature dish of your mother’s pork stew cool down before you get to eating. “One last thing,” she starts, “Sana wants a favor from you while I’m not there.”

“Hmm?” you sound off, getting a small taste test of the minimal viscosity of the soup you just cooked. “What does she need help with?”

“Just some heavy lifting around her place,” Dahyun answers, yawning. “I told her that she could come by the house to get you and help with whatever she needs.”

“You’re setting me up, aren’t you.”

A soft giggle could be heard in the background on Dahyun’s end. It probably shouldn’t mean anything, but a suspicion starts formulating in the back of your head. This could mean one of two things: you’re either fucked for the potential summer, or fucked for the potential summer.

“Help Sana out tomorrow,” Dahyun instructs. “I don’t think anything bad will happen if you’re stuck with her.”

–

Turns out that Dahyun would be right when you do stand at the steps of Sana’s front door, hand at the hip while the few seconds of silence runs the possible uncertainties through your head.

A swing of the door inward: “Howdy stranger, have my pizza?”

You get a good look at her. She’s wearing these thinly rimmed glasses, the middle wire sitting nicely on the bridge of her nose. Her long sleeve hugs her shoulders nicely, tugging at the fabric while her other arm is raised on the door. The shorts are also doing a number on you internally, highlighting the ridiculously long legs that has miles and miles of skin, aside from the fact that they appear to be too short (and also pink, but fuck, man.) Cozy, homebody type of vibe, is what you end off with.

“Hey.” And this comes off as a half-choke in the fumble of words, “Dahyun said that you needed some help?”

Sana cocks her head off to the side, brows attracted inwardly, lost for a second before she fully realizes the present dilemma that she’d had happen to forget. “Oh, I did ask for a few things.”

“Fingers crossed your to-do list isn’t full?”

She does this subtle nod of her head motioning you to come inside, and you hesitate for a second, peering over past her head of brown hair to see the state of the place and here’s how it looks: everything has a very simplistic aesthetic, blank tones of the furnishings and floorboards complimenting each other the more you and her make your ways around the place. Some boxes are still present here and there, half-open, half-closed, like the items in them haven’t found their rightful place amongst the shelves and cupboards and closets between the rooms. Sana mentions also that her and Julie also have similar tastes, but given the fact that they both haven’t been in the place that often because of their work, it’s pretty disappointing to take away.

“How long have you had this house?” you ask, picking up a picture frame off one of the tables in the living room that has Sana and this other gorgeous girl leaning her head in with hers, you can’t put a name to her, but curiosity will come later when the time is right.

“Just like you, not that long actually,” Sana answers, rounding past the corner towards the kitchen when you pick up on the lasting trail of her footsteps to meet her at point B. “Julie and I only managed to settle in about a few weeks ago before she went overseas for some big movie project that she’s a part of. Other than that, it’s just been me here all by myself.”

“That doesn’t sound fun.”

“I find it calming to have a big house with multiple rooms without the sense of company.”

Your eyes trail off in the distance of this closed space. It looks barren, but rich, with the sense of presence from all of the different decorations and paintings all over the walls and tables. You might mistake this as a museum, an unplanned exhibit with your neighbor as the centerpiece of this gallery.

“So,” you start to say, arms cross when you’re watching Sana on the opposite side of the kitchen island, sipping on a glass of strawberry lemonade, looking back at you with wide eyes, those pouty lips on the rim–

She points to the set of disregarded items off to your left side behind, the same set of boxes you noticed when walking in, “I need to get these things out of there and placed around the house,” and she starts to round the area of the kitchen to get closer to you, “and my garage door needs some fixing since it won’t open for some reason”

“You really think I’m qualified to help you with the garage?” you raise an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Dahyun asked you to help me, so please, make us happy.”

–

The first meeting with Sana happens quite quickly. It should’ve ended there - a simple favor fulfilled and get on with continuing the daily routines around the house and neighborhood.

Except it doesn’t happen that way. Not when Sana catches your attention when you’re taking out the trash, watering Dahyun’s little growing garden, when you’re getting your morning and evening runs up the hill and round the block, she always seems to get you caught in her lines of sight.

You’re not against it however, taking a liking to have a quick chat with Sana about different things that were worth bringing up - it’s the simple camradire that’s developed rapidly after the housewarming party. She’s interested to see you with the garage open, finding a new thing to tinker and fix with the car (although modding a tesla would make some vehicle enthusiasts want to rip out their hair and gouge their fucking eyeballs,) she just makes the minute trip from her house over to yours just to talk.

Dahyun’s calls circulate every now and then, getting the quick rundown of what’s been happening while she’s knee-deep in trial work down at the firm. You simply smile while tapping on the camera switch icon on facetime to have her look at the group of Sana, Jihyo and her summer flirt, Mina, along with a few others just have a communal game night of Mario Kart down at Sana’s place when everything is settled in. Before that, you were explaining the fascination of this ancient city that you’ve been reading into between business calls and graph inputs during work that may sound like you’re a boring professor talking about history.

None of that would matter because Sana’s house is like this ancient city that’s riddled with riches and items of materialistic value that would probably convince someone else that their money is being wasted over meaningless items rather than propper investments. You get a few nods of agreement, maybe some fingersnaps because what you’re saying could be plausible with the amount of knowledge you’ve consumed to tell without boring everybody.

“I could care less if that were the case,” Sana says, leaning closer on the couch while running a hand through her hair, the flowy locks combined with that cropped Prada shirt could have you reeling in an alternate universe, but it doesn’t.

“Sana,” you call out, Jihyo’s also giggling at the fact before you even say it also, “your walk in closet is literally the devotion of this ‘city of gold’ I’m talking about.”

“Hey!” and she’s taking this with a light offense, “I only say that it’s true because where else am I supposed to put the dresses?”

“I suppose they could go somewhere else that doesn’t take up space in the racks?”

“You’re the one who helped me put them up anyway!”

“Don’t get all defensive now because I’m talking about it.”

She cracks this smile while Mina sounds off with a ‘boo’ noise, “You can take your little history tangent up your ass then.”

To that, you raise an open bottle of White Owl to her face, downing a bit of the drink while she rolls her eyes, narrowing while she purses her lips. She’s lining her fingers across the bottom of her chin, intuitively, studying the movements of your hands and eyes, getting a read of what makes you tick.

Even after the activities of game night are all wrapped up, you stay behind in Sana’s house, picking up the assortments of empty glasses and bottles, the charcuterie board that’s scavenged through, except the stack of cheese that was apparently stale and too cold to even dig their teeth in.

“Care for some cereal?” Sana prompts after the final sweep.

“You’re asking me to have a night breakfast?”

“You’re making it sound like it’s something to be frowned upon.”

“Then why the paradoxical proposal?”

She doesn’t bother answering that with a simple hum while you’re chuckling lowly. There’s already two bowls on the counter, and not long after, she’s holding out two boxes: Frosted Flakes and Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

“I like the choices.” you tell her, placing yourself on one of the high chairs while Sana slides one of the boxes over with the jug of milk trailing just behind it. You snap a picture of yours and Sana’s bowls to send over to Dahyun and in which she responds in three seconds - you fell for the cereal bait tactic.

What? I got courted with Frosted Flakes and you know this, they’re great.

She did the same thing to me back in college, but that’s her ‘ol reliable’.

Sana swipes your phone from your hand that you try to get back, but she skips a few feet away and starts to text in your place. “What are you texting Dahyun about?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“That’s my phone you’re using.”

Sana parts her mouth open, humming once, “I’m too lazy to grab mine from the living room.”

“You’re texting my wife.” you deadpan.

“She was mine first before you came along.”

You roll your eyes. Ouch. But you sigh once the defeat settles itself back in over you. All that you’re just left to do is get these soggy, milky grains down before you eventually pack it up for the night.

“Thanks again for staying back to help,” Sana tells you on the front step of her yard, “worth the treat of cereal as a reward.”

“Nice to have some company, especially when there’s video games that make me feel like a careless child again.”

“We’re all a little starved for a little fun, glad I contributed to that reach of youth.”

And this comes out of nowhere, really, you miss Dahyun around the house and it’s felt like ages since you’ve last seen her.

Sana has her knuckles against her cheek, the fingers are well refined, she has that glow on her face and that small hint of a dimple that breaks out underneath and well - that same pout you saw last time breaks into this perfect grin of hers that’s filled with uncut happiness, the way her eyes arch into that same eye smile Dahyun has really makes you think twice about your situation.

It’s embarrassing, but you miss Dahyun while there’s this small crush of Sana growing inside you. Going against your vow might be one thing, but your heart can’t help itself to only tell you over your mind - well shit. Congrats.

Though, she’s reeling you back in after seeing Hailey’s comet above, calling your name that makes you unsure if you even know your own name.

“Will you be busy for the rest of the week?” She prompts.

“You can just come past the gate and ring the doorbell, I’ll always answer.”

Sana doesn’t say anything more than that, only giving you the usual ‘good night’ message before she sends you off on your way, just a few feet to the side and behind another door.

–

Some weeks pass. It’s late, and hot. The combination of this nightly hot climate doesn’t serve anyone well.

You hear a knock at the door that has you scratching your head over the fact on who would be at your front doorstep around this time. All of that gets thrown out the window when you look up past the column of wood to see Sana standing there, bundled up in gray sweats and an oversized sweater that’s draping her frame, two sizes too big, her shoulder noticeable to see. She has nothing else on or with her besides the phone in her hand.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you announce, squinting at the light towering over you and her in the front patio of the house, letting out a sigh while Sana just wiggles her body side to side, acting all innocent knowing that she knows what she’s doing. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping already?”

Sana finds your reactions to be funny. For every question, you give her a simple or calculated answer. A greeting in the morning or afternoon would be short and sweet ending off with ‘let me know if you ever need anything’ before heading back inside with the daily mail or some vacuum or bundle of rags to clean from the garage. Every blurt or sexual comment would send you coughing or spitting out some of your water when Sana’s dropping by to see what you were doing. Most girls other than Dahyun in her position would be automatically disinterested, not your fault for being naturally dry and introverted.

“Julie crashed at Natty’s place, so I managed to drive myself back home.” Sana replies with a pull of her lips, breaking a sly grin when you return the same nod, prompting her to come inside because it wouldn’t be like you to keep a beautiful girl from around the neighborhood just standing outside your doorstep.

The hums that come out of Sana’s mouth are refreshing, in addition to the little swing of her head back and forth when she moves past the first lounge area of your house to between the dining table and kitchen where she stops short for a second, looking off to the left, formulating a thought. You had the lights dimmed around the place, but you catch the silhouette of her side profile while a hand is behind her back, like one of those poses that she did for a magazine not too long ago that she shared when you finished up moving the last bits of her boxes.

“Why come to my place?” you ask, flicking a light switch that brightens the area right outside leading up to the backyard. “Are you that bored around your house that you just walk over to mine?”

“Not denying that I’m bored,” Sana amends, turning towards you again, “just wanted to give you some company.”

“Sana, it’s late.”

“Remind me again,” she pouts, the lift of her eyebrows makes you slightly cringe, “How long has Dahyun been busy with her work and that trial of hers?”

“Last I heard from her was that she’s almost done closing off the settlements.”

“Good, and you haven’t been losing your mind over the fact that your wife’s not with you.”

“Can I live normally while Dahyun gets to play the main breadwinner in the relationship?”

Sana coos after that. She keeps this longing gaze at you while you’re returning the same fix on her. The end point of her nose, the lines of her cheek, that over peeking collarbone when she sweeps her hair from the front to the back with a little flip; you tell her that the downtime you were mainly focused on was trying to get back to sleeping, but the damn heat was the main excuse and to that she laughs, scrunching her face when she can see right through the poorly constructed lie.

It’s distracting, the small rumbling of this breaking desire - makes you feel uncertain in how you should approach the current dwindling situation.

Falling off the curve, however, Sana asks you: “Do you mind if I can take a swim in your pool?”

–

This should be a page in the history books, ripped away and shrouded in the shadows, never to be disclosed to anyone else that isn’t yourself.

It’s also completely harmless when you’re mindlessly handing Sana one of your spare towels sitting in the bathroom, smiling sincerely when she accepts the simple item of hospitality with the add on of, if you also need some extra clothes to wear because you dipped your feet in the pool with the overhanging flared sweatpants of yours getting stained, I can lend you a pair while it dries up - pick it up tomorrow or have it dropped off-

She floats her way down the steps, towel over her shoulder, “I’d take an extra pair of pants to use after I finish, thank you.”

You nod, letting herself like at home as if her own home wasn’t only less than five seconds away next to yours. The glass sliding door opens up to the balcony when you finally hear the light crash of water being made from the floor below.

There’s something calming about the light blue glow being illuminated from the pool, looking up at the different stars and constellations with today’s moon being somewhat of a mix between a half moon slowly transitioning into a crescent. Dahyun was also with you in this same position after the first night of moving in, pointing out the basic lines of the Big Dipper and the Alpha Centauri, you showing her Orion’s belt before she made a counterargument that it wasn’t a freaking belt, but it just goes to show that you’re just counting the days down until Dahyun gets back from brining the trial win home.

Looking down, you just see Sana the singular hint of honey brown sitting on the edge of the pool before slowly dipping in, getting the ends of her hair wet before tying it up in a high bun and happily floating in place, sighing while the refreshing yet, cool temperature of water settle around her body.

The room of your study looks tempting to set up base camp, not the worst option to consider also as a form to keep yourself occupied while your bubbly neighbor was right outside your backyard swimming in the night.

(God’s really picking and choosing your battles in any way that he pleases, huh?)

You stay the course, grabbing a quick bottle of Heiniken from the fridge when you’re seeing the sight of Sana’s shoulders and arms breaking the flow of water, her head just above the turquoise surface, the light shining beneath her face to get a good glimpse of her rosy cheeks, those lips tugged at the ends of them in a soft smile, the line of her neck also doing you numbers than the beverage in your hand before you’ve even got a propper sip.

Sana looks towards the back of the house, you raise the bottle up to let her know that you’re still here, noticing the pile of clothes on one of the lounge chairs, neatly folded with her phone as the cherry on top.

Here’s where you make mistake #1: The second bottle in your left hand needs a drinker, and you step your way out into the boardwalk of your pool. A missing piece of detail that you completely ignored was how Sana’s pile of clothes was lacking one vital part–

“I find it to be pretty peculiar for my wife’s friend to be skinny dipping in my pool at around this hour.” you inform Sana of the situation, to which she softly laughs at the observation while you’re kneeling at the edge, placing the two bottles off to the side that you’ll get back to later.

Sana floats her way to the edge of the pool right next to you, arms hanging on the deep end while looking up, “Didn’t think I needed the necessary layers, no?”

“You want to tell me about layers when you’re wearing nothing underneath.”

“Where’s the fun in having swimsuits and trunks?” she teases, “it’s too much of a hassle for me to go through the exhausting process of changing in your spare bathroom that’s miles away from the pool.”

“There was literally a bathroom for you next to the kitchen that you passed by to get here.“

“Why don’t you join me? The pool’s too big to have one person inside.”

No. No. Don’t even think about–

“And if I refuse?” you ask quickly, naively.

Sana leans her head back, and your eyes can’t help in anything besides fucking you up. The waves of the water cleared up, returning to its calm, idle state where you catch the highlighted sallow skin against the light, catching her hips and legs flowing freely. She lets her lower body rise up to the surface, hands still alongside the edge almost as if she’s lounging on the nearby chairs - it also hits you that she’s doing it on purpose, the fact that her bare ass is just out in the open air for you to see–

Right on cue, mistake #2: you sit down nicely, criss-cross like a little kid; and Sana scoots herself to where you’re sitting, closely, dangerously.

“I’ve got some pull for you to rethink, take my offer into some light consideration.” she muses, and the leaning closer coming from you is seriously not helping. She’s got her hand laying below your knee, and she might as well be right under you with the ground advantage.

That same lean is also curious; it’s also pretty familiar too - how the natural state of gravity works, Dahyun reeled you in to some similar form a long while ago - forget if or maybe if the fact she looked first or you looked first, it doesn’t matter. One key difference between that event and now was the fact that you realize that you’ve toppled over and into the swimming pool, clothes still on and everything, the brisk feeling of water washing over before you find yourself breathing, ears getting flushed out and replaced with Sana’s sweet laugh to top if all off.

You swipe your hands through your soaked face, slowly floating to the shallow end while cringing at the present moment that just occurred. The blend on your shirt and sweats mold to your figure, like someone had slapped clay on you. Chlorine is not good for the eyes, obviously, so keep rubbing your eyes and clearing out any sinuses while telling Sana that you’re not inviting her in the next time after this night.

Sana has this effect on people, so natural and open to the point with others that she’s hugging everyone and doing skinship as she pleases, you’re not far off from the latter, in fact–

“I thought you’d be a little more vocal with the fact I pulled you in,” she tells you, turning away slightly when you splash a hint of water as she approaches you.

“It’s cold,” you say blankly, slicking your hair back while Sana closes the distance. Sly smile and everything.

“That’s all you have to say?” she asks, “So dry.”

“Aside from the fact that you’re swimming naked in my pool, I think there’s more pressing issues for me to take care of.”

Pressing issues noted, Sana is well within arms reach, except you have another look at her charming face, her body under the water - she’s well defined in all avenues, fair skin that would even rival Dahyun’s for a quick comparison, her hands continue to do their own thing when they’re measuring the shape of your middle, fingertips grazing the soaked shirt and all.

“I’m sorry” she breathes out, the faintest apology of them all.

You’ve got your arms around her waist, not a care to fully realize what you’re actually doing; it’s a collapse in real time, her hand to the back of your neck: mistake #3.

With a simple press of her lips on yours, she grips tightly, the draw of air clouding the intoxicating taste that has you humming a bit, the slide of her fingers down the line of your jaw before going off the rails with replacing the hand with a full on arm, hooking onto your neck while you move up to her upper back.

But this inferno was unraveling.

Her legs fill the gap between yours, hands are now on both sides of her face, thumb sliding across that prominent cheek bone that will have you sculpting out the details some other time. She’s kissing you like she wanted this to happen, the desperation, hunger even, like it would be the last thing needed over everything else, and you’d give that to her. It’s all sinking, that box of thoughts that was supposed to stay at the bottom of the ocean, the sealed lock intact and with no key to open, it’s resurfacing like the breaths of air you and Sana share with your faces just centimeters away from each other.

“Do you think you can forgive me?” she stops to ask.

A fucking truck of reasoning is what hits you, pulling back even more but your hands are now keeping Sana in place, just right above her ass holding at the hips. “Yes- no-” She pulls you in for another convincing kiss before another could be stolen on her cheek, the same sigh she sounded in your throat a few seconds ago comes around. “I don’t know anymore.”

“It’s okay to not know.” Sana’s face softens when you can’t even bother to look her in the eyes now, tilting your chin up to support, lightly stroking it. “We probably shouldn’t.”

She’s right. You’ve got to end this and you have to end it now.

“But what if we did?” You’re left breathing, in disbelief.

“Would you want to find out?” Sana asks again, unsure but also confident. “There’s this kind of luxury I’m fascinated with discovering the unknown.”

You’re thinking of these different stories in your head, the different kinds of graphs and tables riddled with numbers trying to come up with a logical case, predicting a scenario where you could forget about all of this, count the days until you won’t be alone again with the right person. Except Sana is dishing out all of these simple motions that have you leaning in for more, yearning. A hand is being slid across the shoulder, her face is suddenly closer with yours when you pull her towards you. “I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t afraid.”

“Don’t feel bad,” she tells you, a comforting whisper, wisping in the breeze. “You’ll be able to catch on quickly.”

(If there was anything that you’ve noticed while starting this new chapter: you’ve learned that the sly smile armed by Minatozaki Sana will have anybody flipping over, ruining lives and starting fires.)

All common sense gets tossed out of the pool when you kiss her again, a choice that will have its own consequences when the time is right, the floodgates of sin opening harshly while you've just signed your one-way ticket straight to hell.

–

Another thing that you learn from the houses that are oozing with richness up and down the street is that money and sex have powerful selling points.

This may be subject to change, but when you have an art piece like Sana stolen from the museum of her house (figuratively), all fingers and charges point toward theft, the necessary offenses that follow after don’t really matter as of right now.

–

It’s not that difficult for you to fall in a place like this: carrying Sana up the steps but only stopping short at the doorway when she’s lapping her tongue into your mouth. She’s still wet in your hands from the pool, and you have the wall play as a part to keep her in place - the fit of your lips breaking apart before they find themselves again.

“Mmm,” Sana hums into your mouth when you finally let her down, on the balls of her feet while your hands wrap around her waist again, knee lightly nudging the apparent line of your cock with the pads of her fingers soon after, testing it.

“Hey,” you mumble, pulling away with an audible smack from her lips, tongue licking your mouth while she softly laughs, and again - it’s definitely on purpose when her hand palms your cock more firmly through the soaked sweatpants that has you gasping for a millisecond. “Trying to get on with it faster now, are we?”

Her hand sets itself on your chest, eyes meeting with hers half-lidded, she knows what she’s doing, she knows that this is wrong, and she most definitely knows that this is on purpose. You tilt your head more deeper only for her to stop you for not more than two seconds, before easily allowing you to kiss her once again.

“Who’s leading?” Sana laughs at herself, still stark naked when your hands land at the rise of her hip, massaging the slope of her ass with the droplets of water gliding across your palms. “Wouldn’t be right of me to do all of the hard work, begging at the fact that you’re about to fuck me over in this huge house, get your fingers inside and finally have that perfect dick that Dahyun always talks about.”

“She told you?”

“Much like every time we catch up. Always.”

“What do you know so far?”

Sana sighs when you kiss her again, the lines on her face softening like a flush of anxiety that suddenly went away in a matter of a second. Your hand is quick to travel to the back of her head, pull the elastic of her hair tie that lets her locks flow down while the counterpart is palming her warm, bare cunt, eliciting a slight gasp while you’re smiling into her skin. “She- she told me that you were disappointing the first time y-you guys did it.”

“Oh?” you mutter, thumb tapping on her clit that makes her whole body stiffen while the pad of your middle finger slowly scoops under her folds, noting how much she’s gotten slick in the short span of time. “The inexperience was the main factor.”

Another finger pushes inside, feeling the stretch while your ear receives the steady decline of Sana’s breaths, lip being pulled inward by the upper row of her teeth while her chest heaves, the heat becoming too unbearable to handle. She’s not one to let you take the easy route, putting her lips back with yours while you scoop under her luscious ass, walking past the doorway and into the bedroom - a space where Dahyun’s appearance was the common one - now introducing a newcomer that will make her case to stay.

The landing on the bed isn’t gentle, and Sana slightly sets herself up on one elbow, while you’re tugging the sopped clothes off your body, trying to get a read into this pretty woman’s eyes of the things you want to do to her. You’ll make her cum, flip her into the mattress, have her bouncing on your cock later, get her whimpering while you drink in the sight of her pretty face just blown out, euphoric, the writing’s already on the wall before you even get a chance to draw the pen.

“You think I’m gonna disappoint you with my performance? Maybe prove that Dahyun’s point still stands?” you ask her, making your space bigger over hers when you’re on top of her, pulling from the hips to get her to meet your thighs. Sana bites her lip in a short excitement, keeping her gaze on yours when her fingers finally wrap around your cock, giving a few experimental pumps while she spreads wider, opening the gates to an avenue that will have you packing your bags to the next house over. “Imagine if–”

“I’ll make you shut up about your worries, now fill my pussy up. With your fingers, your cock, just anything, please.”

She’s desperate for you, and you have to admit it too, but when that first rush of every single sensation registering in your mind from the very instant you have your cock wrapped around her, sliding inside those lines with the small tug of your hips, pushing more while you could feel nails rip into your skin.

It’s a new entry of data, the approach of how Sana’s pussy is downright perfect for you. There’s a slight throb, a misfire when the strokes are still hesitant, uncertain exchanges of breaths with the slow blinks between her eyes and yours. Uninviting, but all the more welcoming with her walls, clinging into the deeper ends of her cunt, breaking down the imaginary lines of numbers and rope circling through your head.

“My, fuck–” and you also choke out something too when she says that, the muted cry she let out while you take a moment to readjust, sliding out before you yank Sana’s hips onto your cock again. “T-this is everything.”

Like you need the exposition on the term everything. All of your worries wash away when you thrust more ferociously, the internal bomb in your brain ticking away the time every single speck of seconds that passes through burying your cock inside her. You’re nowhere near gentle at this point, the squeeze that has you mirroring Sana’s “hnns” over the claps of your thighs with hers, taking advantage of the arch in her back by hooking your arms underneath while one of her long legs locks around you.

“So good,” she just groans out, relishing in the feeling of it. “Don’t stop–”

You’re also not safe from it either, fingers resting alongside her midriff where her hands are placed on top, grasping at the new angle of your hips where it has her wheezing, the fresh spot of heat hitting the base also making your lose your sense of awareness, reduced to nothing but just a desolate being of a husband that’s throwing their marriage away.

Her creaming cunt only keeps you focused, the pretty sounds and remarks coming out of her mouth has you giving her expressions of confusion, lust, shock, and maybe that longing look of when you see someone at first sight and it just kills you, right then and there. The sheets come undone, a pillow is used as a secondary support underneath her back, a clutch of the tit and she does this simple evil grab of your hips while you’re ruthlessly pounding into her helpless body, utilized as a vice the more you hold your end of the bargain.

“Sana, you’re–” and again, the mind blanks out of this small blurb of praise before she just giggles for her response, fucking her so throughly that you’re running the different combinations of tempos to get her even more ruined, fucked dumb, maybe even have her begging to be used over your cock like this again soon - the eventuality of that notion will be all too apparent when the sun rises the next morning.

She just clings to you, keeping your hips in motion while her hands cup around your face once more, pulling inward for that press of lips all over again like the beginning. You feel the wobbling lip, a thumb quick to keep her coaxing while she whimpers in absolute bliss.

“I want you,” she huffs, and you’re falling through the cracks with every steady stroke of your cock between the opening of her legs, “to make me cum. Make a mess out of me and this pussy.”

You’re taking shelter between her mounds, not wanting to look up in pension for the cardinal sins committed tonight, lips swiping up and down her neck that has Sana moan out in approval, the clamp of her walls tightening every return back to the bottom, her hands are over your back, tracing lines, fantasizing. She’s a fucking waterfall every thrust you take.

“I’m- fuck–you’re gonna–gonna make me cum so fucking hard.” you feel the pulse impending, the muffled squeak that she makes in your lips, she’ll be the first to fall. That eruption happens fast, the spasm and tighter grab in her walls around you while she’s crying for now.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for this incident, a flashpoint in time that was probably bound to happen, fucking Sana in the walls of your own bedroom this hard– “You’re something else, just like you were meant to have me like this, God.”

“Keep fucking me like this - god that feels so good, You and your cock it’s-” she huffs, barely smiling. She can see you slipping, at the edge, the litany of moans sounding like a siren out at sea. That mess she requested, you’ll give it to her, bury your cock in the deepest depths where it shouldn’t even be humanly possible, where the molten hot walls are bursting the thickness of your head, grinding out every cell and fiber - it’s possible. “Fuck, that’s so hot when you’re all fucked out for me.”

“Sana,” you say, and she has your hand over her tongue, licking up the thumb, and you’ll swear that it’ll do damage to you for centuries.

“Mhm,” she responds nicely, the last bit of the hum coming out as a hitched whimper, “Cum inside me.”

That’s how she’ll want to do things. If she wants something, she’ll get it. You do the same amount of damage to her like she did to you while she’s begging, whimpering, getting all of the lovely noises of being fucked out to oblivion out of her mouth until she’s leaking - washing you over, from the legs, to the pillows and sheets. Stretching her out perfectly, get her to slur out phrases that she would say normally on occasions not like this, only to come back around and have you fill in between the gaps.

You slip, she slips, it won’t matter, because you or her will make the catch, that extra push deep, maybe harder. The velvety drag already has you addicted to her, the sight of her body above this hips was just the plus.

“God, Sana. So fucking wonderful.” you snarl against the line of her cheek, one last final dip that has your cum flooding deep into her warm, velvety cunt.

The throbs of your cock has Sana mumuring softly, saying something like - yes, yes, keep fucking your cum into me, so that I can feel it - nice and hot, god yes.

You slide out halfway, and her hips buck from the tender motion while your hands rub her thighs. And you also black out for a second when a few more spurts coat her walls even more, the pullout quick for a fist around the head of your cock, covering her waist in the remaining bits of cum still left inside you - well fucked and sloppy.

Sana’s eyelids flutter shut, your hand rubbing along the oblique of your hips, that sense of desire finally fading away when you fully realize what had just transpired in the past hour or so. The lights are off in the house with the illuminating glow of the moon breaking through the window, tinnitus ringing in your eardrums and your eyes are fixated on Sana again, cross-eyed on the cum-soaked fingers she has, taking the liberty of sucking on them shamelessly, and the fucking noises she makes has your jaw to the floor.

“Thank you,” she says, sweetly, innocently, sitting up on the bed with her legs crossed, the trail of cum still apparent on her stomach. “You certainly did not disappoint.”

You, my friend, are entirely fucked.

“What’s gonna happen to us now?” you ask her, rubbing your face and shaking your head in disapproval while Sana cleans the rest of herself up with her fingers. “I think we made–”

“Did I not tell you to worry?” Sana’s quick to shut you down, her look cross while you don’t even bother to meet her in the eye. This is supposed to feel wrong, it shouldn’t feel like anything else besides that. She scoots herself over to you with a quick kiss to your cheek, one that you accept openly, but still feel pensive over.

“We can talk about it later,” she says, sliding herself into the rumpled sheets, patting down the open space next to her. “Would you mind if I stay the night? In your room? And in your bed?”

“I can’t really turn down that offer,” you laugh, following along with a hand trailing up the side of her figure, giving a meaningful press of lips to the spot of her hair, “I actually like the company now.”

“Would you also mind if I want it later when I can’t sleep?”

“I’m seriously gonna hate you for this when we’re done.”

“But I’m asking nicely.” she says, and hums this sweet tone when you lay next to her, feeling her ass shimmying against your cock underneath. “You’ll say yes,right?”

“Keep up with the needy act, and maybe I’ll have to fuck the want right out of you.”

Sana rolls herself on top of you, finger tracing the lines of your face again, sketching, the bottom of her lip tugged by a pair of teeth. There’s that sly smile again, mischievous. It’s the reality now, she’s won you over.

“Consider it a gift for you.” she adds, kissing you again before she goes slack on your chest, the wave of sleep finally setting in.

–

(This actually comes later when you can’t dream a wink, staring up at the high ceiling:

It only takes little effort for someone to make a house into a home - and you learn to the best extent possible, Sana slots in that missing piece where Dahyun is supposed to fill - without even fully realizing it.

Her and Dahyun are two sides of the same coin, both give you this sense of ease and confusion that has you looking off while they’re trying to hide the inevitable laughs. They’re both also moodmakers with the way they look at you with the earnest smile, a reminder of one and the other that you’re not too far behind to follow.

Every nick of the mouth moving, the glint in their eyes that will break you down from the shackles of rational thoughts while the springs in your bed are supporting the absolute fucking you’re doing over them.

Maybe this summer will be saved after all.)

–

When the crack of dawn breaks through the sunrise, you’re trying to recollect what little thoughts you have left of your deteriorating marriage; as in, what’s gonna happen to you when Dahyun finds out you’ve slept with her close friend who just happens to live in the house right next door, aside from other things. This space was now tainted in the heinous acts you’ve committed but the only thing that was filling the front of your mind was the amount of work emails you saw on your phone while waking up.

“You’re just gonna leave me here in the bed all alone?” Sana asks, your back still turned to her when you mindlessly flick up the switch to your bathroom.

A simple spin on the ball of your heel, and the image is just majestic to witness.

This 5’3 brunette that’s all sunshine and rainbows, replaced by a deity that oozes sexiness and uncapped lust, lays on the side of her frame with an elbow propped up to support her head, hair still having that post-fuck frizziness to it, the sheets are covering most of her middle, but that outreaching left leg exposed, folds in, and you catch that slope of her hip, her ass is also not that far behind to look over.

You already know her body all too well. If you could put someone that’s remotely close to the Greek god of Aphrodite, Sana would come very close to that.

“Are you really expecting yourself to stay here?” you ask, fishing for your toothbrush before washing it with one hand, the other grabbing the minty toothpaste that was adjacent to it in the cup. “You know that I have work, not to mention working at home too.”

You watch from the doorway when she sits up, the romp of her sheets falling over in front that shows that pale chest, her firm breasts that lay beneath her fine collarbones, there’s a new set of hickeys - the hickeys, showing your favorite spot to soothe her while she’s wailing in your arms, the rise and fall of her shoulders every breath let out has another wanting bite of her swollen lips.

“Is it too much to keep you company?” she asks again, tugging on the comforter, hoping that she’ll get the right answer out of you.

“It’s not that I mind about the company of you, it’s the fact that others would get suspicious.” you retort, placing down the brush filled toothpaste on the counter, “That’s the last thing that I want to happen.”

“How long has Dahyun been at trial with her firm?”

“At least a couple weeks at this point.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You need to go home.”

“But your place is a lot nicer than mine, clean also.” she smiles, looking up little by little when you approach her on the edge of the bed. A hand is outreached with hers, and it’s damning how well it fits with yours, the automatic reflex of brushing your thumb over the highest peak of her middle knuckle. You don’t even flinch at the fact that she’s moved your hand over to her breast, tracing her nipple. It’s not hard to ease into these seductive advances, softly chuckling at the way Sana’s tit has a sort of weight to them - perky, but impossible to resist.

“What am I gonna do with you?” you ask yourself, a little loudly for Sana to hear too, “I have to get ready.”

“Breakfast on the table?”

“Have you freshen up before you do the walk of shame next door.” you whisper, helping her up, swooping under her legs in a bridal carry. The tangle of her hairs on your chest when she leans her head in, laughing, the smell of citrus and lingering sweat. “The comforter was too heavy and hot anyway.”

Sana just giggles, waving her feet in the air, into the bathroom where her skin glows a little bit lighter. “What’s the point of having that open room next to yours if it’s not used?”

–

(There’s a lot of questions that don’t get answered. Partly because Sana can’t concentrate while you’re kneeling between her legs in the shower, lapping away at her clit, washing away any slick that’s left out; her fingers are splayed out across the tile, slipping, dripping away from her hips.

You also shouldn’t be whispering these sweet nothings into her ear either, kissing her as if in another reality, maybe this too, could be a thing. It isn’t fair, it’s not right. She comes off as urgent, hoping to keep your mind off of the responsibilities sitting at your desk for just a little while longer. “Don’t do this to me.” That’s a plea, your mouth hovering over her neck, she has your dress shirt draped over her on the kitchen island with her knees apart again, filling in the space while she’s all porcelain teeth and warm tongue. She tugs on your lips like she wants every last bit of you, and it’s not worth fighting for. Her mouth gets on the cuff of your ear, and she whispers this spell, a curse rather, impending your fate even more:

“I think you know all of the things that I would do to you.”)

–

Fucking Sana has its own luxury.

This living art piece wandering about in your house where no one else knows. She comes to your place, you go to hers, it’s a trade off that’s very easy to do when you’re just a few steps away from each other’s doors.

We could also talk about benefits. The benefits. She asks for a couple favors - a helping hand to clean the house (yours or hers) as an example - you have some requests of your own, mostly to just have a quick bite of her cooking or pull some aged alcohol that was gifted to you a long while ago, half the bottle already gone before the end of one night. It usually ends up with you sinking inside of her, caressing her gentle body, kissing the nape of her neck when your hips mesh with hers perfectly.

It’s a new fun that’s profound in yourself. This super popular model that has every hot contact of companies you could name off the top of your head in her phone, taking a quick hiatus for some ‘me’ time. She’s got a solid income, her closet is full of brands that you take note of to give to Dahyun later down the line, and the sex man, it’s just fucking- well, terrific.

If having Sana all to yourself was the prime exclusivity in its own right, the girls she invites over make everything much more interesting, just aside from the fact that she comes unannounced most of the time. Oh, and that girl in her picture framed back at her place, Chou Tzuyu, she’s a real sweetheart. You’ll have her tag along with Sana no matter what time of the day it is (or night, because you’ll always be free outside of work when it counts).

Sana usually stays in your house more compared to hers, and she usually seeks you out first with a longing press of lips on yours. Tender, sweet, before you get into the best part of your regular business day, bending her over the nearest piece of furniture and dumping a nice hot load between her thighs while she goes on doing whatever you need her to do around the house to keep herself busy.

She doesn’t let you have your way that easily. There’s this business call you’re doing, talking about how the numbers don’t really add up for this list of statistic report you were handed an hour prior, trying to fight the gravity of your head leaning forward–

“Sana, your fucking mouth. So good, jesus.” you mutter, cradling her head while she taps your cock on her perfect lips, laving her tongue over before she dips down again, pushing you past the tightness of her throat.

–of the very person pushing your thighs apart underneath the desk when she primes at the very angle, bobbing her head slowly while maintaining that hypnotic friction of her hand over your shaft.

You hit the key binded to the mute button on the call, not giving a single ear of the person in the session rambling about well, if we could get an extra day or two with the new inputs for the program, then maybe we the numbers that are put together can line up with the graph - ‘and, let me get this straight–’

“Mmph, god.” You’re broken down to just a few simple actions, combing Sana’s hair, guiding her silkly mouth onto your cock, and she doesn’t let up the fucking pace. You’ve got your fingers intertwined with hers on your thigh, not giving a care of how she’s so persistent to get you off like this, choking, drawing back for some air - her pinky and ring finger moving in this motion on the tip that has you shuddering.

“Such a fucking hard worker,” she says, biting her lip, the glare in her eyes that’s nearly demonic while her tongue slips along the underside and upper part of your cock. “How could you talk so calmly while your dick is in my mouth?”

“I’ve had practice before,” you answer, slightly smirking at the memory of Dahyun doing the exact same to you long ago, it’s no different.

Keeping it together wasn’t the option anymore, while the rush of Sana’s mouth is drawn back to you, proceeding with the online meeting as planned, discussing the future plans delegated to your coworkers. Too bad that they can’t hear the litany of gurgles and gags happening below your desk, struggling to not use one hand and keep Sana buried under there, watching with that lustful look in your eyes when she knows you’re about to pop, the shake of your leg as the sole hint to what she needs before putting both hands into the mix, all wet while every ounce of focus gets diluted to the ceiling.

The meeting eventually ends while groaning at Sana’s throat bottoming you out, spilling inside that heat with a weak buck of your hips, shoving everything into her where your balls meet her chin. It just happens, more and more; her mouth is so fucked for you that some of the cum gets on her teeth when you slide out of her. The worst part: you’re still fucking leaking, getting it on her bottom lip, another rope above her eyebrow; the splatter doesn’t even end when she lightly presses a thumb down at the base and you get another drop to her cheek - it still isn’t fair when she wraps her fingers around, lightly stoking while your entire lower half of your body is still twitching once the work is all done.

Sana can be evil, but she goes back to being a bundle of joy when she plants a kiss to the tip, pushing your chair back and kisses you back on the lips, wiping some remnants of your cum from your lips onto her fingertip while she sucks them cleanly. “Productive call?”

“Got a few more clients to talk to, but thanks. I needed that.” you sigh, fingers on her chin to assess the proof, nodding Sana off to go ahead and wash up before cooking lunch.

“You still want the usual meal?”

–

Sana goes away for a few days, and the place gets hollow again.

You have the phone in your ear with your manager to talk about potential vacation time (talk about great timing too), and with a press of a button on the TV, you see the headline on the channel broadcast:

Dahyun and her firm won the trial. Which means that she’s finally coming home.

–

Dahyun’s homecoming is a bit short lived when you wait for her right on the street, her personal chauffeur rolling away while she’s walking to you with a duffel bag, a carry-on luggage, and her briefcase that she sets down before jumping into your arms. She smells soapy, a nice tinge of lavender when you bury your nose into the midpoint of her collar and neck. You tell her that you’re proud, give her the necessary congrats before dishing out the reassurance that you didn’t burn the goddamn place down while she was out saving her own job.

“You didn’t miss much,” you say, watching Dahyun take a longing bite of the salmon dish you cooked for her, the hum of approval with that smile you’ve missed so much for god knows how many weeks has it been. “Besides the fact that you were saving your career, I kept myself busy with the projects at mine.”

“Really,” she starts, “I would think that you’d drive yourself insane up until I finally managed to get back. That racing sim setup would literally drive your attention away from me, so I thought that was one of the things to keep you busy.”

“I didn’t even have the whole thing unboxed yet,” you manage, swiping her glass of water for you to drink out of while she drives the knife into the food for another slice. “If anything, I was just cooped up in my office while keeping the house nice and tidy.”

“Good to know. Have you been doing stuff with the others while I was gone?”

“Who do you mean?”

“I mean. Jihyo, Mina, maybe even Sana.” Dahyun says, and your gaze shifts from stoic to this more pensive one; like the last name makes you remember things that you’re not supposed to. “You did help with Sana right?”

“I did. I was hoping that she left a handful of messages for you to read when you got off the plane.”

The doorbell rings, and your wife is quick to answer it with that fast-paced walk of hers. By the time she opens the door, the home is filled with a familiar sound that was echoing through the hallways not that long ago, a week, three weeks even.

Sana greets Dahyun with a loving embrace much like yours earlier this morning. Their conversation was pretty much filled with the usual ‘when did you get back?”, ‘you have to fill me in on everything that happened at your work!’, and ‘did you give him a hard time with the stuff you asked him to do?’ All of these questions have your head at an angle when you see the pair of them cling onto each other, like lost friends who haven’t seen each other but miraculously reunite at an airport after who knows what time frame you’d put them in.

(Sana gives you this gaze, one that will have you kicking your heels while she combs down Dahyun’s hair, that sly smile of a girl who knows what they did, what she does to you.)

You do nothing, just give her the simple wave and smile like nothing ever happened, while your mind plays a whole different tune and movie in the back of your head.

–

(A small tidbit about montages: these moments in time from here on out to help shape up how stories play going forward. It’s not pretty, playing Sana’s game of chess while the ‘oh, my wife doesn’t know I cheated on her with her best friend who just happens to be our next door neighbor’ runs in your head.

The blips don’t also fucking help either:

Instance #1: Another house party hosted by you and Dahyun where you bump into Sana in the kitchen, who returns with a playful tap to your crotch and a smack to your ass that has you buckling forward while you hear her laugh fade into the crowd.

Instance #2: Sana comes over for a movie night with Dahyun. While she went to use the bathroom, she uses this as an advantage to straddle over your lap, sucking your face up with her lips like a vacuum in the dark before she hurries back to her original spot on the couch, fixing up her hair and wiping her lips, playfully pointing at the hickey underneath your jaw that has you rolling her eyes by the time Dahyun settles back in the seat.

And finally, instance #3: The infamous office room incident. Where you had a dinner party with the neighbors again to celebrate your promotional achievement of heading this massive project that would benefit into making electric cars more affordable for the common money maker. Everyone is having fun with the drinks and partying aspect of it while Sana is on her knees, again, in the dark, deepthroating your cock with the door open for anyone to notice. All urges are off the table when you and her stow yourselves away into the guest room (with the meticulously placed soundproof foam pads all over the walls) when you have Sana’s light body bouncing over your cock, hammering down her hot cunt for a few minutes while she bites her own finger when you switch up the tempo to be more slow, loving, a deliberate way where she can really feel every throb inside her. She has a hand to the small of your back, you’re covering her moans with your palm, making her cum over and over until she’s walking to her house with a stutter in her step.

More incidents did occur, but there’s got to be a sense of craziness if we’re thinking of going through all of them.)

–

“I’d say that things are pretty normal now,” you say, arm around Dahyun’s back with fingertips just grazing the top of her ass, legs over your lap while taking shade on the couch in the backyard patio, hanging out with a quartet of drinks on the table, two for you, and the other two for Sana and Tzuyu.

They’re here on another hot Thursday, not wanting to risk a brownout with the a/c running for more than the viable six to eight hours that you’d normally have while working, taking a dip in the pool for a bit. Two pretty girls in clad bikinis: Sana in a revealing two piece that barely covers her nipples and pussy, Tzuyu in a striking singular bathing suit that shows those luscious thighs almost having you drool when she gets out of the water.

“This was so much better than just walking around in our underwear around the house.” Tzuyu says, laughing, grabbing her bottle of this brand you pulled from the fridge when she takes a nice swig. You remember the faint memory of waking up one morning with Tzuyu and Sana, both of them taking turns fucking you in different parts around the house. Tzuyu on the couch in the living room and Sana again on your office chair, hopping along your cock while you’re typing in a report on the desktop.

Sana’s laugh fills the atmosphere when she talks about pushing Dahyun into the pool, her look unamused when you stare at her in bewilderment while she sees Dahyun slap your shoulder, motioning you to take on the defensive. “You really have nothing else better to do than to spend your time with us.”

“You and Dahyun are good company.” Sana says, dismissively, hand on Tzuyu’s thigh to also include her in the conversation.

Dahyun shifts her legs off of your lap, pulling them in towards her while you sit up, leaning forward for the empty bottles before you’re stopped by Sana and Tzuyu, who both offered to get another round of drinks back inside while you relax. The pair of them both walk away, arm in arm, two beautiful girls with both bearing breathtaking asses, all within line of your eyesight.

“You don’t think I know,” Dahyun says, snapping your gaze immediately back to her.

“Know what?” you say, crossing your arm over while she leans in closer to you, making a face that looks very serious, but not threatening. A lick of your inner lip sends you uneasy while Dahyun’s eyes stare deeply into your soul. That deepening pit of anxiety inside your stomach has you second guessing on whether or not being honest and transparent with your wife should be the best route to go knowing what you did. What you’ve done.

“Nothing,” she answers after, “Wanted to test something out of you.” Dahyun then leans her head into your collarbone while you stare out into the blue horizon hearing the sounds of Sana and Tzuyu come back with another bundle of bottles waiting to be downed.

–

This happens entirely on a whim, and when you’re not even a part of the picture.

Sana answers the door to her house, eyes shooting up when Dahyun’s at the top step, smiling with a bag from the bakery and a full bottle of sparkling cider.

It’s the usual game of the catch-up conversation, Dahyun talks about her draining work from the trial, plus her extended vacation time handed by her boss. Sana talks about the upcoming collabs that she’s been appointed to, a plane waiting with an open door for her on the taxiway by the end of the month.

Exchanging laughs, quick memories of their past hangouts. The high-school reunion type vibe has this sense of nostalgic feeling between the two of them, but Dahyun drops the act completely out of nowhere to talk about more pressing matters.

“How long?” she asks Sana, placing her glass neatly on the counter across from her.

“What are you talking about?” Sana says, swallowing down a lump of bread down her throat, worrying. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I know you’ve been getting cozy with him,” Dahyun says flatly, “I just want you to tell me if that’s true or not.”

“About?”

“Getting his dick all up inside of you like you wanted.”

“I thought you were okay with it?”

“I never said anything remotely close to that.” Dahyun sighs, grabbing the half-full bottle of cider before downing it straight from the opening, placing it down right after while Sana taps her finger on the counter. “Besides, he’s probably worried that our marriage is ruined.”

“Doesn’t seem that way.”

“Sana, what are you implying?”

“What I’m implying,” Sana prompts sweetly, stepping towards Dahyun around the counter, snaking a hand down her waist where it’s open in the crop-top, kissing her by surprise. Dahyun’s mouth opens wider, fingers curling around the nape of Sana’s neck, like an old memory locked away coming to light again. “Is that we show your lovely man that shouldn’t be the case between us.”

She dips her face into Dahyun’s again, the kiss more intoxicating than the first initial contact. It’s how Dahyun melts down from Sana, the way her spine curves backwards, Sana’s hands there at the perfect time to support her, both of them are panting into it, how open they were about their feelings for each other before you waltzed in to have Dahyun all to yourself.

“I hate how I like you and him both.” Dahyun gasps when Sana plants her lips across her neck, her hands grasping her waist and ass that gets this hum of approval from Sana on her skin. “Maybe we could find a probable compromise to solve this little problem?”

“Is it the same compromise I’m thinking of seeing his pretty eyes when we cum all over his cock?” Sana asks with a wink while Dahyun just giggles into her chest.

“I love it when you and I are on the same page.”

–

A sigh leaves your lips when you hear how the metal grinds inside the lock of your doorknob, pushing the front door open to see the surprise of an article of clothing, sitting at your feet, tilting your head to the side when you pick it up to see that it was a cropped shirt. The soft sound of the humidifier fills the eerie silence when your eyes notice another piece of clothing a few inches away from the shirt, connecting the dots in your mind realizing the trail of clothes up the stairs.

Once up the steps, the pieces start to get larger: first a shirt, then some stockings, the door leading into your bedroom was ajar, the knob hanging with two pairs of panties. The hinges on your door squeak but so quietly, and your ears are greeted with a familiar laugh, not just one, but two.

Without producing any more noise to make your presence known, your eye captures the sight of Sana on your bed, dipping her head lower to a girl laying underneath, caressing her face while the other girl giggles, returning the kiss openly. It’s pretty peculiar, when you also realize that both of them are naked on your mattress, it’s also really fucking peculiar when you connect the dots that the girl laying underneath Sana is Dahyun of all people.

“I suppose that Sana’s little secret was finally let out by her.” you finally say, leaning on the door frame with the smooth wood wide open. And when the both look up at you, Sana looking up and forward, Dahyun looking from under while laying still, fuck, it’s sending signals to your brain at the image of them on top of each other like this, a mesh of skin on skin, their pretty faces stacked on their chins - you could sketch it on an easel, because that’s a literal art piece in real time.

Your mind doesn’t even register the few seconds after, when both Dahyun and Sana make way towards you, the movement of their bodies in perfect sync, hypnotized at the way you watch how they stand on their tiptoes - ghosting their hands all over your chest and hips while your hands tend to their asses, palm at the defined fit of them, softly laughing.

“We had,” Sana and Dahyun both say each word in different pauses, something straight out of a horror movie at the way they ad lib each other’s utterances. “An idea,” Sana adds. “That you’d hope you’ll like.” Dahyun finishes. “Would you like to see what we were discussing?”

(God picked your battles, and maybe you could let him off the hook just this once.)

“Impress me,” you simply say, while Sana pulls your head into hers when she kisses you in front of Dahyun.

–

So Sana and Dahyun return to the positions where you first found them.

The only difference being, Dahyun hanging her head off the bed upside down, dragging her tongue across the seam of your balls while Sana’s tongue slips inside your mouth, her slender fingers giving these languid strokes to your cock while the pair of them just hum in content, getting you ready when all of the gears are primed to click.

The contrast between the two of them, Sana being gentle with her lips while Dahyun is the complete opposite with hers, aggressive with the way her tongue swipes across the underside of your cock, her hands wrapped around your thighs to get more of those lavish licks at the base that has you counting stars behind your eyelids early.

“How are you rock fucking hard?” Sana husks, brushing her lips against yours while Dahyun leaves a path of pecks to your inner thigh before she rolls her body over, looking up with her doe eyes while Sana lets herself fall right next to her, flipping her hair back while the sheets crinkle at the elbows, reflecting the same look before flashing her eyes back at Dahyun. “Makes me wonder who you’re gonna finish inside of at the end of this.”

“Didn’t know that this was a competition,” you say, mind zoning out when Sana draws her tongue up your underside now in a quick lick, Dahyun smiling on the opposite end doing the same exact thing, that will most definitely bite back your words.

It’s only right that Dahyun gets to be the first to push your head into her mouth, inhaling a bit while her tongue smoothes out across the area, delicately brushing along the length that sends the synapses in your spine on an electrical current. Sana just looks in awe at how much your wife is taking you, twisting a hand in play while she plants a wet kiss to her temple.

You could get lost in the finesse of how Dahyun’s small hands skate up your length, the cushion of her mouth already enough to have your tongue between your teeth, but Sana didn’t come her to just watch, tapping lightly on her shoulder and sliding you out of one heat into the next, and the expectation you had for Sana blowing you always gets thrown out the window.

“Fucking whore she is,” Dahyun rasps when Sana lowers her lips more down your cock, rolling along with the lightest graze of her teeth along the top, a twitch of your legs with a billowing puff of your cheeks to let them know that what they’re doing is working. How many times has he let you blow him under the desk? You hear Dahyun ask Sana, pulling some stray strands of hair from her side when she clasps her lips at the base, keeping you there in the sweltering heat.

“Oh Dahyun,” Sana reprimands, “You have no idea how much I’ve made him cum while you were away.”

A hand is thrown into the mix, behind both of their heads when they meet the glints in their eyes, uniformly taking your cockhead from the side, slowly sliding down at the suction, how they both fluidly slide you in their mouths in alternating fashion. Sana popping with her mouth, Dahyun swiping along the slit the next second.

“Christ girls,” and you could hear the giggles of satisfaction to your amazement when they both have a hand along the length, stroking slowly to the point you can’t even look them in the eye. “You had this planned for a while now, haven’t you?”

“I was against Sana’s crazy idea,” Dahyun purrs, face flushed when you notice that Sana’s hand is at her rear, fingers dipping into her cunt that’s already slicked up, waiting to be stretched, “but then she convinced me otherwise after some- propper persuasion.”

“Tell me,” Sana chimes in, that innocent pout with her pursed lips doing absolutely no justice to how she looks right now, “Who do you think is the bigger slut between the two of us, me? Or Dahyunie?”

Dahyun guwaffs when she leans into your palm, slapping your cock along her lips while you thumb the soft skin on her temple, swiping the underside of your head makes you grit your teeth at the amount of teasing they’re both doing. “Maybe he should fuck our faces to see,” she suggests, “Who could choke the hardest over this fucking cock.”

(With a pair of wide open eyes, you could only mouth the word, “fuck.”)

“You’d like that anyway, won’t you daddy?”

The obedience settles in when both of these girls let their hands rest on the edge of the bed, finger and thumb wrapped around your cock when you tell both of them to hang their mouths open, rubbing your tip around the rim of Sana’s lips when she opens wider, wider until her jaw fully slacks at the whole length, and you love how she’s a pro at this.

You take your deserved pleasure of how each of these girls' mouths feel around you. Sana’s lips being so unbearably perfect with those pretty lips of hers, sliding out and have Dahyun practically inhale your cock next, her eyes blinking up over the tight seal she has over you. “Jesus, baby–”

Sana helps play the guide fucking your cock more into Dahyun’s mouth, the subtle flick she has sliding around with every move and thrust flushing into her throat. Her small lips were already ahead of the curve mirroring Sana’s movements a few minutes ago, the pressure sending waves from your hips up, lightly clutching her hair to keep the ache building.

“Taking your baby so well, huh?” Sana growls over the sound of Dahyun desperately slipping her head down your length. “You like how she’s deepthroating you after not having your cock for a whole month?”

“Feels so fucking good,” you answer, spreading your legs apart to keep Dahyun’s mouth on your cock warm, moaning so loud when Sana’s other hand works your balls, fingernails scratching along the ridges of skin while she fingers her, the moans sending vibrations along your shaft nearly breaking you. “Keep- gonna cum on this pretty fucking face.”

Borderline filthy, almost off the fucking rails. Sana doesn’t like to play fair when she pulls Dahyun off of your cock, the drag of her tongue stripped off with a line spit connecting to her lips that’s soon catered to Sana’s mouth kissing Dahyun again, and the sight in itself is a blessing that you’ll never take for granted, how their faces tilt every second they meet, the smile breaking at the corner where you could notice them, delicately letting their fingers explore their faces, hooking into their hair and necks, the rise and fall of their shoulder every breath taken.

Sana’s head spins out of control when she’s pushed onto the pillows of the bed, propping on her elbows while Dahyun spreads her knees apart more, kissing up the line of her inner thigh. “Dahyun,” she rasps, head reeling back when she’s getting close to the center, “I’ve been dreaming of this to happen for so long: you eating me out while your husband is oh- looks like he’s already ahead of the–”

You don’t pay attention to their short exchange of words, relishing in the taste of Dahyun’s pussy, licking past the slit when you grip her asscheeks a little more tighter, a slip of the tongue over her clit, lapping up in the ways that you know your wife likes.

Like the trail of clothes to the bedroom, your vibrations transfer up to Dahyun’s mouth and into Sana’s cunt; it’s a connecting line of fucking when you slide your tongue deeper, where the heat is the most hot, hooking your arms over Dahyun’s thigh’s while Sana grips her head, whimpering the moans where she’s left struggling for air.

“Look at us, Dahyun, shit, he’s eating away at you, you’re eating away at me, this is so fucking good.”

Sana’s the first to sputter, the amount of hums in approval, cracking under the faults. You and Dahyun are on the same page when you’re slipping two fingers in - then three; Dahyun catches on while getting fucked over, adding her four fingers into Sana’s stretching pussy. She’s gonna lose it.

That whine she makes, when she’s over the edge, it’s the missing symphony in your ears.

“Yes, I’m cum– gonna fucking cum,” she cries out, Dahyun leans all the way in, back arched in a way that would rival a gymnast. The way your fingers are clutching at her snowy skin, enough to easily scratch and draw bruises, she’s quivering when you’ve also made her reach the peak like Sana: these meaningless sounds, air getting more static through their tracheas.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Dahyun whines out matching Sana’s volume, hips tensing while your mouth is pressing against the pucker of her ass, tongue and finger tag teaming while she fucks Sana through her sensitive pussy, past the first hurdle of cumming and skating a pair of fingertips over her clit, making Sana lock her knees while the circles on her nub continue, speaking complete nonsense and in mewls.

“I’ll fuck you now, just like you wanted.” you spit, pulling yourself closer to Dahyun by the hips, her whole body relaxing when you have the head of your cock, skimming the folds of her pussy while Sana cradles her head on her boobs, leaving languid kisses while Sana puts her legs up underneath.

“Need it–” Dahyun pants, only to be shut up by Sana kissing her again to keep her dazed.

“What do you need, honey?” you ask, leaning forward to kiss the line of her back, hand massaging her waist before you retract your hand up the dunes of her hip, onto the divot of her hip while impulsively smacking your wife’s ass that makes her yelp at how hard you hit it.

“Your cock- need your cock inside me-” She can barely answer while she’s drunk at the teasing of your cock along her pussy while Sana’s lips work her neck. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Well, he’s gonna have his work cut out for you isn’t he?” Sana asks, massaging Dahyun’s waist while the top of your thigh meets Sana’s ass, licking your finger to make her squeal when you rub it on her clit, and you get several. “Fucking our brains till we’re drained.” she tells you, watching as you stroke the length of your cock. How long could you hold out? How much can you handle? You’ll be good for us, let you easy- until you’re cumming a whole fucking mess.

Sana means business, Dahyun is already putty just waiting to be put back into a tube and spilled over on the bed. “You two will be good girls for me, and I’ll fuck you guys right.”

You mean what you say, it’s in existence. And when you push your head into Dahyun’s perfect pussy, the opening rips out a tone within her that you’ll always remember - sucking in an air at the clamp, taking you all the way. Sana smiles at the wince Dahyun makes, holding her face when you pull back, slowly thrusting halfway, the tightness leaving you speechless.

That very moment where you’re sinking - where you don’t even have to say anything. (Because Dahyun was just made to take your cock that doesn’t feel undeserving at all.) Her ass is spread out, cunt gripping the whole fucking length while she buries her head into Sana’s neck. You could also hear a hush come from Sana’s lips while you’re still fixated on your cock disappearing inside of Dahyun.

“Just-” Dahyun sputters, the octave in her voice going up pitch by pitch, fucking her soaking hole while you’re pushing everything to the possible ability you can, where you can feel the clench around your head, sobbing, hands over the dough of her ass, getting her cock drunk until you senselessly empty yourself inside her.

“Harder,” Sana chides, tongue on the neck while she’s the supporting beam of the shaking girl laying on top of her. “I want her to be broken in two.”

So you keep pounding, this familiar angle with your hips to where Dahyun has died before, shrieking while she feels like she’s floating in her head. When you see her head move over to the side, her profile in view, you’re blown away by the fade of her blush, Sana’s hand underneath to her chin, her back arched to the highest point she could possibly have it in, pistoning yourself in like it wasn’t the daily routine as it is, not ever realizing that it would never stop being like this.

When her moans reach the apex, you could see Dahyun mouthing something, a wobbling lip hindering for her to even say the words properly - Baby, I’m gonna fucking– cum so hard on your-

One final push in, and her entire lower half shakes, a dam finally cracking under the pressure.

Sana’s just there to admire the artwork of her face, while reassuring that everything will be taken care of once all of this is done, a kiss to the lips while your cock continues to slowly plunge deep, cumming on your hips, the warmth too comfy to even leave. This would be great, one more sense of presence in the bed that will be a mainstay from now on.

“Look at you doing so well for him,” Sana says, and she’s still laughing, drunk on the sounds of Dahyun while her half-lidded eyes are telling a different tale. “You’ve missed his big fucking cock, fitting so perfectly inside you, hmm? Look at how much you creamed all over him, ugh, filthy.”

Dahyun just shudders while you’re massaging her inner thigh, pulling the head of your cock out of her fucked pussy, slapping the head agasint the sensitive clit, and you chuckle lightly at the small twitches she makes every hit that she feels; once, twice, thrice, and even the fourth.

“Was that enough to satisfy you?” you ask, learning over to get your face in between the two pretty girls, getting a whiff of your wife’s hair while Sana’s quick to plant her lips on the cuff of your ear, bold, trying to hide how badly she wants the next go at you railing her. “Could you take more tries before your cunt gets my load all up inside of you?”

“She’s not gonna answer that for you right away.” Sana sliding herself down, her fingers fluttering around your shaft. She does these circular motions alongside the skin that had your head sideways the other day back on the couch, realizing how sterile you were at being delicately handled, she’ll play that to her advantage, and she always finds something new.

“Now that you had your fill with her,” she continues on with this while showering Dahyun with peppered kisses across her breasts. “Don’t you think I should have a go? Make you throb to the point where I get to feel the teeny bits of precum before you burst?”

“Sana, that’s not nice.” you tell her, lightly tapping Dahyun’s waist, leaning over to the nook of her neck to whisper something. Have her something to do while keeping Sana’s mouth occupied, because I hate how she doesn’t shut up about things like these. And Dahyun follows along, still coming down on her high, shimmying her way up on her knees and when she finally hovers over Sana’s face, you see the quick peek of her tongue tip in preparation while your fingers are working fast around Sana’s thighs, pulling her towards you and priming Dahyun for the perfect angle.

“Should we shut this little slut up, honey?’ Dahyun asks, biting her lip at you while you slapping your cock along Sana’s folds, to an amount enough for her to hide the growl coming out of her mouth. “I think she’s a little too antsy for the both of us.”

“Ladies first,” you smirk, providing the common courtesy, dipping your cockhead in before backing out, catching the small ‘fuck’ being let out by Sana. Dahyun takes the quick moment of weakness as an opportunity to finally sit on her face, her hand also quick to rub her clit while the woman’s open mouth on her pussy starts to tear away at the threads, and you know Sana well enough to describe the feelings.

It’s listed as this: tight, so fucking tight to the point that it should be considered to a world class delicacy that’s not meant to be enjoyed leisurely.

That sharp draw of air through the thin lines of your teeth, finding that leverage into her cunt, easing into her, trying not to get ahead of yourself when she’s finally flush with your hips. You could hear the hum of satisfaction through Dahyun, her hand gripping Sana’s hairs between her legs, lightly grinding her cunt over her wet, hot mouth.

“Right there, yeah, there we go.” How your cock stretches alongside the walls, spreading her apart. It’s always a real show to keep both eyes open on, no quarter of the inch left behind. Sana would be this tornado that swoops in places, taking people off their feet. In trade for that, she offers a grace with her person - a vibe that comes off as rich, tied to materialism, to be used as a personal fucktoy when the time is right, and that instance of ‘time’ happens to be legitimately, every time.

You could take days to figure out how you managed to get in this position. It’ll only take you hours, minutes; hell, maybe even less than a few milliseconds to wrap your head around the fact of how full you make Sana with your cock, providing the same structure of strokes, slowly building up pace like with Dahyun a few minutes ago.

“How’s he feeling, Sana? Does he fill you up well like he said that he would?” Dahyun finally says, hair curtaining the right side of her face while Sana’s eyes can only look up while her mouth works her pussy again. The gluttal sounds of moans and chokes and smacks of Sana’s lips on Dahyun’s other lips, the only thing that she can do while you’re splitting Sana apart, her also doing some small movements so that she could fuck herself back onto your cock.

Dahyun pulls her hips up for Sana to speak, “Oh baby, it’s fucking me so deep. Want him - want daddy to fuck this pretty pussy–all for him.”

“Is that something you can do…fuck her cunt the same way you fucked my cunt?”

This takes a pause, flashing a gaze to Dahyun while you could feel the muscles flex in Sana’s legs and hips, driving yourself into her continuously, keeping a rhythm in check. The demand that’s being proposed doesn’t even register in your mind and Dahyun does this swift motion of doing a complete one-eighty of her hips, pressing her ass down onto Sana’s forehead, leaning over with a hand onto her waist while the other pulls your face in with her small fingers. You’ll have to pay attention, because her lips are quick to keep you from snapping out of Sana’s perfect pussy.

“What are you asking me to–”

“I want you–” one kiss to get you drunk from Dahyun, “to fuck her properly–” another kiss to keep focus, “until she cums–” nothing wrong with having a third kiss, “all over this perfect cock.”

Your hand is quick to reach across for Dahyun’s breast, kneading it in a way that she knows that she’s still yours, her eyes flickering down to the sight of your cock sinking back into Sana’s blown cunt, floating a pair of fingers on the clit, watching as you tear her apart, not wanting to shy or look away herself.

Sana’s quick to pull her face off of Dahyun’s ass, gasping for air before sweeping the flat of her tongue across her pussy once again, “So fucking perfect for me, daddy, please, don’t stop,” is what she says to you while you can see her legs go limp slightly from the sides.

The creaks of your lofted bed frame are singing at the shift of movement between the bedsheets and pillows, pulling yourself (with Sana inside still) up to the edge, planting both of your knees when you bottom yourself a little bit more deeper. You notice the image of Sana’s face fucked out, how she’s blushing, twisting her head to the right with her eyes closed, Dahyun manages to stave off to the side, taking a momentary break while you carry on with teasing Sana’s swollen clit, getting a few whines, moving her head against the sheets in a brief tantrum.

“Had enough yet?” you had the frame of asking, smiling alongside the line of Sana’s neck while the temporary angle of your cock just nudges that one spot you’ve managed to hit a couple times, the symphony of Sana’s little ‘oh’s’ when a small move of the hips just has Sana’s cunt clenching the head of your cock to send you gasping as well.

“Stop - stop with the questions,” she huffs, body stiffening before the wave of relaxation when you’re leaving more pretty bruises along the drawn canvas of her middle, licking up the deserved sweat of your hard work that’s also staining the sheets, along with the soaking that’s between your legs and hers.

You get a command, Sana looks up in a panic when Dahyun tells you to start fucking her harder, lifting the small of her back to get her horizontal with the mattress.

The levels just only seem to go up higher than then; Sana’s eyes being pulled down and rolled back. She knows you’re hitting the right spot, because of how she’s lightly pulling her legs up, you doing most of the support when she’s drawing these hitches of air, shuddering all over your waist while you push her beyond that edge. Her head is doing this bobbing motion when you slide with that upstroke, and you could feel the drag of her nails digging into your forearms that would seem accidental in another circumstance.

Dahyun plays spectator, catching her breath, hand toying between her thighs while you’re fucking the girl beneath you into a spilled puddle all over your lap.

“Are you seriously getting off without my help?” you ask, effortlessly gliding into the folds of Sana’s cunt. “Touching yourself while your best friend is taking my cock, sweetie? God, look at her, she’s wrecked.”

Sana pulls you in with little strength she has left, able to get her arms around your neck and shoulders, tightening that pull even more against you.

“Want you to cum,” she pleads, “I want you to cum inside and just, fuck, you don’t–” It’s miserable, hopeless, the power you have to just do exactly that with the way both Dahyun and Sana are both moaning and panting and just straight up rubbing both of their swollen clits while the length of your cock is still drowning in one of them.

It’s how you do these broad strokes, slowly, strategically, a technique that you’ve perfected over the amounts of times you’ve got yourself completely fucked over, balls tapping above the pucker of Sana’s ass when pulling yourself in from the top of her thighs, a holding point while doing the best punishment of teasing you could ever do for someone like her.

(Calling Dahyun over: shut this bitch up for me, please?)

It’ll do you numbers in which: you’re still fucking Sana insanely hard still, with Dahyun’s head hovering above the present action.

Sana’s clutching on to Dahyun’s leg, pressing her eyes into the skin, not wanting to let this fantastic feeling ever end, muttering all of the lovely things that she’s told you before multiple times. You could see the tug on her lips, tilting your head at how familiar the look was because you’ve seen it the first few times at how she couldn’t believe that you’d feel this good inside her, to get her stomach transformed into ashes and have her seeing stars. Sana’s body is “Pandora’s box’ full of lust, just waiting to be opened until you’ll give her opulence of what she needs from you, to fill her up.

“Fuck her through and through,” Dahyun orders with this hint of anger, “need to see her cum–”

“Give me your mouth, princess,” retreating from Sana’s exhausted cunt and getting Dahyun’s mouth all over you, cleaning up the mess of Sana’s slick right off of your length, stomach dipping when her throat swallows almost the entire half.

Your ears are zeroing in on the gags your wife is making on your cock, doing a double feature while her fingers are rubbing Sana’s clit to keep that ache, grasping a high ponytail with one hand, sucking away that will have you dreaming that the tension is almost tempting of spilling inside her throat right at that second. Dialing back with what little warning you have left, slipping back into the other hot warmth below her chin.

Despite the numbness clouding your brain, the obscene sounds of hums and whines tie in perfect tandem while you’re gliding back into Sana’s cunt, alternating between the tender rings of muscles, stretching around your cock in a one-two step: Dahyun’s mouth sliding and slobbering down your length, teasing Sana with your cockhead in her cunt massaging the walls around that squeezing vice.

You’re not at fault for when it happens: face red hot from within, the sound that rips through your vocal cords while your knees buck at the sensation of Sana’s ass bouncing back off the edge of the bed, and the small gyration of her hips when you’ve driven all the way to the hilt, she can sense it too.

Again, you’re not at fault for the way your cock pulsates that first second inside Sana’s sopping fuckhole, the first shots at the deepest pit where you could take it, twitching while you’re trying to save yourself from losing all of it from the first hold. Any second longer inside that lovely heat will have you rethinking your life choices up until this point.

You pull out, fist tight around your cock when you could see the lower point of your tip, giving an act of generosity firing another shot of cum inside Sana, cock out in the air where Dahyun sees the opportunity to lean in, drinking in the remaining spill that–

Scratch that, it’s not remaining, because you’re cumming everywhere.

There’s drops of white spilling from the front of her lower lips, pumping out the leaks on the flat of Sana’s stomach. Shit, you even managed to get a few globs on Dahyun’s cheek, even up to Sana’s right tit. It’s all fucked, you almost topple over on top the both of them, the arm serving as a last gasp foothold while the color drains from your face.

Dahyun pushes you up with both of her hands, staring at you with the splotches of your release slowly sliding down alongside her cheek. She’s taken aback with the load, but what she does with it–

(Well, don’t be surprised. She’s the love of your life for god’s sake.)

Two fingers skate off some of the cum off her profile, rubbing it on her lips. You draw yourself away while Dahyun helps Sana sit up on the bed, her hand quick to dip under her cunt where she picks up more of your cum that you’ve spilt inside. Sana catches on quick to lick off the cum off of Dahyun’s cheek, tongue sliding across the plane to swallow, the small ‘mms’ and audible smacks of lips colliding. Dahyun just laughs when she examines her palm, placing it underneath her mouth and Sana’s both of them licking the dribble up like two birds in a bath, washed over with sweat and slick and filthy and–

“So fucking gross,” Dahyun says, finger to the arch of Sana’s brow, wiping a wisp of hair off. “Like, are you gonna be so full of yourself–”

“Hey,” Sana tuts, “Don’t get all mad now that I’ve managed to push his buttons better than you.” She then slumps herself over Dahyun’s lap, hand massaging her waist while Dahyun leans back on her palms, crossing one leg up the edge to support her head. They both get secluded in their own little world, whispering these different sayings to each other with a soft smile at one, a scrunched nose to the other.

You manage to slot yourself to the side, next to Dahyun, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, “I thought this wasn’t a competition over me.”

The pair simply roll their eyes, Dahyun runs her fingers through Sana’s hair, unconsciously, affectionately. They’re still coming down from all the fucked out clarities while they simply - just - look. Being proven wrong wasn’t that much of a loss in itself; in fact, it was actually inviting when you’re giving them the same confused expression that has the brain questioning everything from the plain existence to whether or not this new reality was even sustainable amongst the three of you.

“We could all agree to an accord together,” Sana says enthusiastically, “like distinguished human beings- or, something like that.”

(I mean, there’s a blueprint to draw up for that extra room anyway, but you’ll get to that later.)

–

It’s during one Saturday morning, when the plates and bowls of today’s breakfast are already in the sink, you have a single carry-on duffel bag in your hand, placed on the highest step of the stairs, taking in that crisp air through your nose. Everything comes to a gentle slope, the clouds are high up in the sky, meshed up together, shielding the landscape from the beaming sun, and the time hasn’t even hit noon yet.

“I just don’t get it.” you beam, elbows on the railing while your eyes get caught up in a pair of blue jay’s gliding past the street, fascinated by the companionship of nature. Only to have your attention drawn to the awaiting car on the driveway, Dahyun’s personal chauffeur (and to this day you’re still wondering if that person even gets paid or not). “All of this trouble of having a vacation, get reeled back into working, have more time off than expected, but still decide to take up another work order again?”

Dahyun steps out the doorway, slapping your arm, leaving your face with a small wince that you play off with dead eyes. “I could call Nayeon to put in a word for Momo. If you’re making such a big deal out of it, I might as well tell them myself that I wanted more time off than need be.”

“You said that it was work related.” you tell her as the counterargument.

“But it’s not!” Sana bursts out, all smiles while you’re walking down the pathway with another bag in your hand onto the asphalt. “Such a buzzkill, as if you didn’t want the whole place to yourself to burn down. You spend wayyyy too much time up in your little office, so consider this to be punishment.”

“Where did this come from?” you ask, flustered, with arms up trying to play the innocence card.

Dahyun pulls Sana’s singular luggage from her hand and into the trunk of the car, the bag you were carrying also next to be put before a shut off of the compartment. “We’ve been planning this for sometime, and now we’ve decided to do it. Together.” She pulls up her own passport with an airline ticket shoved in between the pages. You could probably guess where they’re going, judging from the assortment of clothes that they’ve packed, it must be somewhere tropical, like Cancun or in the Bahamas, maybe even Malaysia was on the cards, but you take it with a grain of salt.

“Is this supposed to be a besties trip that I didn’t even know about until now?” you ask the two girls standing behind the car, leaning back onto the glossy material of the paint job while your arms are bridged between your chest. “I’m also assuming that this is predetermined–”

“Stop being so analytical.” Sana groans out, “You really have to think twice about what our summer plans were?”

“Maybe he just needs a few conditions.” Dahyun adds on, nudging Sana’s shoulder to which her face suddenly lights up in excitement. “Besides, he’s really good at reading between the lines, like, you know, he has a good thing for body language - go ahead, test him, I’m sure that he’ll show off like he always does.”

(It’s how you catch yourself shaking your head downwards to the Earth, hiding the grin that’s breaking on your face because Dahyun knows how well you observe your surroundings. She’s trying to play dumb at the fact that she went ahead to grab your duffel bag while getting the shower ready for yourself. You also notice that Dahyun’s driver got her roughly about ten minutes early to put your bag in the trunk and pretend that nothing ever happened. It’s cute when she gets sneaky and mischievous, because Sana will always buy into what she devises to get you stressed, a migraine pounding through the back of your head, taking it out when you have both of them moaning underneath or straddled on top of you.)

So you say: “Are there any guarantees to this if I do what you ask?”

Dahyun puts her passport out in front, shifting her thumb over to show yours underneath. You pretend to be shocked with lifted eyebrows, but you already have them figured out.

“Honey,” Sana says, blinking with her teeth peering through her smile, “I can guarantee that you've got us both.”

#twice smut #sana smut #male reader smut #kpop smut #minatozaki sana #twice sana #kpop fanfic #male reader #twice x male reader

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of-many-fandomss · 5 months

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if you could, maybe a fic where reader is the youngest on the grid, and has lost her father. anyway, she wins a grand prix (whatever you’re feeling, it doesn’t matter which one!), and just immediately runs to charles because she knows her dad’s not there to see her big win. he’s immediately taken back but then understands why she came to him and is there to comfort her

and maybe she invites him up on the podium with her!!

thanks :))

Proud

summary: your father was no longer there, but your next biggest supporter was

paring: charles leclerc x reader platonic

warnings: mentions of parental death

word count: 0.6k

a/n: in honor of my baby lando getting his first win 🥹🧡

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The blur of your vision no doubt made it borderline dangerous to be driving- but you couldn’t care. Not one single bit.

Not as you pulled into the spot reserved just for you, a p1 resting against the poster right in front of your car that you could barely make out.

A sob raked through your body suddenly and you dropped your hemelt clad head into your hands, breathing shaky and heart rate still accelerated.

You took a moment for yourself, your eyes squeezed shut and your senses buzzing. There were screams of the crowd around you, each one of them celebrating your victory in a deafening roar of pure thrill and excitement.

Finally, you jumped out of your car, ripping the hemelt from off of your head just in time to see an all too familiar Red Bull vehicle pull up to your right and a Ferrari to your left, taking up their respective places by your side.

Whipping around, you paid no mind to the cheers of congratulations from your team, nor the reporters that tried to invade your space as you raced as quickly as you could to the bright red Ferrari.

Charles hopped out of his car just in time for you to crash into his arms, eyes once again squeezed shut as you hugged the man tightly.

The man stumbled back a bit- having already shed his helmet- eyes slightly wide as he looked down at you, but softened as he watched you finally let the tears flow free from your eyes ducts.

He recovered quickly and hurtfully swept you into his embrace, holding you just as tightly as you were holding him, neither of you tuned into any of the hundreds of cameras that were snapping all around you.

After so much hard work- after so much dedication- you had finally done it. You had finally won your Grand Prix- and one on your home track nonetheless.

The tears were partially for the dedication that was finally paying off, but it was mostly for the man that you wish was by your side at the moment.

Your father.

The man that had always been your biggest supporter, through and through.

From your karting days to when you finally signed on with Red Bull just over five months ago when you turned eighteen.

Only two months later, he had passed away from a sudden and quick disease that had left you and the rest of your family utterly heartbroken.

Even before he had been gone, Charles had been quick to take you under his wing. You weren’t his teammate, and yet, he couldn’t help the sense of responsibility that took over him when he had first gazed upon you. He had wanted nothing more than to make you feel welcomed and safe in formula 1.

And that’s what he did.

When you had lost the man that had been your biggest supporter- Leclerc became just as large of one.

“I’m so proud of you,” He murmured in your ear for only you to hear, listening to the way you were hiccuping against the material of his tracksuit, “Your father would be so proud.”

You squeezed him tighter for a moment before pulling away, laughing slightly through teary eyes at him.

Charles smiled, moving a piece of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear, “I’m so proud of you.” He repeated.

“Thank you,” You whispered.

Thank you for saying it. Thank you for looking out for me- for always being there.

Though you didn’t say the words, your eyes shone brightly with them and the man understood.

He nodded before taking his gloved hand in yours, “Come on, let’s get you to your first top spot on the podium.”

When you turned around, you were greeted with the sight of screaming, ecstatic fans, and beaming drivers.

Each and every person in that place was so proud of you, but none smiled as brightly as Charles when you mounted the top of the podium and held your trophy up high.

#f1 grid x reader platonic #f1 grid x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x reader platonic

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iceunhie · 1 year

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voicelines about you: as their lover !

featuring: imbibitor lunae, jing yuan, gepard. (+ jingliu and kafka)

notes: headcanons! some might be ooc HELP. i couldn't resist writing for hsr man… also jingliu and kafka sneak bc mmm i love morally questionable women 🤩. gn!reader. reader is not trailblazer. some fluff, some angst (?) kinda. reblogs are very much appreciated!

Imbibitor Lunae (Danheng IL)

About [Name]: They're one of the few people who's never condemned me for Danfeng's sins, nor ever tried to get me to own up to them. Their presence is very comforting to me. My lover? *coughs* Y-yes, they are.

About [Name]: Selfies Aside from March, [Name] always seems to ask me to take photos with their camera. Hm? No, I don't really mind. If it makes them feel happy, then that's enough reason for me to agree.

About [Name]: Photo Albums [Name] made an Express photo album with March yesterday. Yeah, pictures of our adventures and memories, according to them. It's in the Data Bank, so just ask me if you want to take a look at it.

Gepard Landau

About [Name]: [Name] is the most amazing individual I've met. Their determination and their will to pursue their goals to the fullest… I'm proud to call them my lover. Oh, ah… Was that too forward?

About [Name]: Lending a Hand Oftentimes, Serval asks [Name] to help her carry some things for her workshop. Although the times I get to personally help out are rare due to my duties, I still make it a point to support them by asking the Silvermane Guards to keep an eye out for them and help carry my sister's things for them if it's too heavy. Of course. They're always my top priority.

About Serval: Nagging Every time Serval stops by my post, it usually means [Name]'s run into some difficulties, which I try to help them out in. While her telling me about my lover's state is greatly appreciated, she always nags and teases me being a fool for them and… *sigh* No, it's alright, really. I'm thankful that my sister cares about [Name] and goes out of her way to talk to them for me. Still, I do hope her nagging would decrease next time.

Jing Yuan

About [Name]: Hm? [Name]? Yes, they're indeed my lover. Hehe, now that you've brought them up, I should go look for them. I'm afraid I've grown so used to the feeling of laying my head on their lap that no other pillow can suffice. Ah, what a predicament…

About [Name]: Spending Time Together While I do enjoy dozing off, [Name] makes a point to let me rest at a more appropriate place, instead of at the Seat of The Divine Foresight, buried under a mountain of paperwork. Oftentimes, I do as they say, but when I'm not and just craving their presence… Heh, now that's another matter entirely.

(BONUS! - Yanqing's Voiceline) About [Name]: Oh, [Name]? They always give me some extra allowance for buying swords, buying me sweets and food I like… Of course I won't say no to that! Sometimes, them being with me when I'm being scolded by the General for my expenses helps a lot. Probably because they're the only one the General can't say no to.

Jingliu

About [Name]: ….Do you really think you have the right to know about them? This is a warning. Try to ask again and perhaps you'll be faced with the end of my blade as my answer.

About [Name]: Soothed The whispers of the marastruck, succumbing to the Abundance… They are the only one able to calm the storm of my thoughts. For that, I am grateful for their patience and their kindness.

(BONUS 2! - Jing Yuan's Voiceline) About Name: While Master's current state is one of irreparable damage, at the very least… She has someone to hold onto while she grapples with the curse of mara. Even if I don't quite believe she's the Jingliu I knew from before, I know that her feelings for [Name] are sincere. I just hope she doesn't end up hurting them in the process.

Kafka

About [Name]: Aha, now thats a question I didn't expect to hear from you. My lover? Yes, [Name] is that to me. I very much enjoy their love and affection, you know. Even if it isn't on the script, I'd still mention them. Quite romantic of me, no?

About [Name]: Trophy They always, always chide me about me ruining my velvet coats when we finish up a script. What's wrong with a little blood? I keep most of them as trophies. There's one I'm especially fond of, too. They think it's rather embarassing that I keep the coat from the time they got injured on the job. Although the stains have long since turnt black, there's still a faint scent of iron in it. Hm? What do I mean by that? Heh, let's just say I don't take any harm coming to [Name] lightly. While they call it a reminder of their lack of caution, I'd rather call it a little show of my affection~

About [Name]: Destiny's Course Elio refused to tell me about what my future with them would be, saying that the path in that choice is quite difficult to discern, and I think it's for the best. I suppose if [Name] decided to leave the Stellaron Hunters, hm, would locking them up till they can't leave me anymore suffice….? Haha, just kidding. I wouldn't let them leave in the first place.

#dan heng #hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #dan heng x reader #gepard landau #gepard x you #hsr gepard #gepard x reader #gepard x gender neutral reader #hsr kafka #kafka honkai star rail #kafka x reader #jingliu x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan x reader #imbibitor lunae #mhie's spirals

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slttygeto · 1 year

Text

SAVE MY LOVE FOR YOU | MANJIRO SANO.

જ⁀➴ synposis: neither you nor mikey seem to have pulled out cupid's arrow despite being separated in this timeline. lucky for you two, you have the perfect group of friends for you to reunite in every life.

જ⁀➴ content warning: manga spoilers! (the ending), racer! mikey, best friend! kazutora, fem! reader, tooth rotting fluff, mikey is very confident and famous, making out on the first date, se.x in the changing room, se.x on the couch, protective sex (wrap it before you tap it), overstimulation, cunnilingus, mikey makes you cum three times, he's a sweetheart.

જ⁀➴ word count: 10k

જ⁀➴ note: thank you to @mztoman for commissioning me again (so loyal!) i had so much fun writing this, even though it took me a while. and thank YOU guys for 8k followers! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it hehe.

ʚ⁺˖↪ comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

One of Takemichi’s biggest achievements in life is giving his friends the life he promised them when he first discovered what being a time leaper was. It wasn’t easy, he fought like hell but it was worth it at the end. All of his friends are alive, his girlfriend is soon going to become his wife and was preparing for their wedding—it couldn’t get more perfect than this. The man sat next to this big window of a very quiet and fancy place, so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice that his friend was walking back towards their table.

Manjiro watched as the black haired male fidgeted nervously in his seat. It was his idea to take him out, help him loosen up a little since Takemichi has been so caught up in wedding stress. He deserved a day like this. Especially with how far he’s come and the sacrifices he made for them to be here in the first place.

“If you fidget again, you might break the chair,” Manjiro teases him as he takes a seat across from him. He watches as the male flinches before resting his forehead on the table. Takemichi heaves out a long sigh.

“This is way too fancy, Mikey…”

“Well, what did you think? That I’d be allowed to go a coffee shop down the street where anyone can recognize me?” Manjiro flashes his friend a grin, a little proud that his career mad him get this far. And Takemichi sighs in defeat, accepting the fact that their little hangouts were going to be like this from now on.

“Plus, you need this more than I do. Wedding preparations are wearing you out. Maybe attending Emma’s wedding first will help putting you in a good mood before the big day comes up.” It was true, but there was something else to be discussed and Takemichi wasn’t sure of how to bring it up.

Was this even the right moment for it? He didn’t even know if it was appropriate to discuss this so casually. But he needed to get it off his chest. It was one of the first things he noticed when the last time leap happened—how it felt off. He wasn’t even sure at first, he thought he was just imagining things, that the time leaps took a toll on him. But one look at Chifuyu confirmed that he wasn’t tripping. Someone was missing in the picture.

“Hey, do you remember ever having a girlfriend in the past?” Takemichi tries to be casual about this, tries not to make it seem like it was a life or death situation but his facial expression fails him. It was so serious that it makes Mikey pause eating his food.

“Huh?”

“A girlfriend, or perhaps a girl? Do you remember being involved with a girl romantically?” At first, Takemichi was hesitating on telling his friend about this. After all, there’s no nice way to ask this question without making it seem like you are calling your friend a total loser. But he remember his conversation with Chifuyu, and he knows that if there is anyone to trust when it comes to information about the past, it’s either him or Naoto.

“I remember her, we didn’t talk that much but she was definitely there,” Chifuyu says, still holding the cold beer in his hand. Takemichi had invited him to his apartment while Hinata was out shopping, because he couldn’t just discuss this kind of stuff over the phone.

“Through it all, right?”

“Mhm, you remember her too Michi, you’re just hesitant.” Chifuyu was right. Takemichi knew what he saw in all of the timelines, he is sure that there was someone and Mikey always looked so protective of you, never let anyone near you. He’s never seen his friend like that, and so for him to be separated from her in this final timeline just didn’t make sense. He needed to do something about it.

“Michi, are you trying to tell me something?” It seemed like Mikey refused to take the situation seriously, and no one could blame him. What was supposed to be a fun hang out with his best friend was turning into a serious conversation and faster than he had anticipated.

“You were in love, Mikey.” This sentence makes his face fall. Takemichi sighs before leaning back in his seat, stirring the drink placed in front of him.

“Each time I went back in time and tried to fix things, it led me to a different timeline—a different outcome. In all of them, you were involved with this girl—you were different,” Takemichi pauses as he looks up at his friend. “No matter how bad things turned out to be, she was always there and seemed to be the only person to pull you out of this dark cloud. Last time, way before that big fight happened—“ He almost cringes when he remembers how bad it was. “You two weren’t together anymore. And I’m not sure why or how, but that seemed to worsen things for you. And if I’m not mistaken, she did end up dying at one point.”

Manjiro was trying his best to process what was being said to him. He was quiet, attentive and did not know what to say. He wasn’t opposed to the idea that younger him had found love, he was more upset that he must’ve fucked up some way for this mysterious girl to leave him and not want to be involved with him anymore. But he had no memory of her. No name, no address—how old was she? Were they both the same age? Was she older? What was she like? She must’ve been super patient with him because his teenage self was a menace, whiny and way too needy.

“Do you remember what she was like?” Mikey breaks the silence, his eyes going from his drink to his friend’s face who hums, trying his best to remember some of the features.

“I’m not sure, all I remember is that she was very loyal to you. She had a bonten tattoo on the back of her neck to match yours.” Takemichi remembers vividly the Bonten timeline, where he had tried to visit Mikey at that one abandoned building. He remembers watching her as she stood near the leader with careful eyes, a warm touch that contrasted her partner’s cold demeanor. She seemed to give Mikey what he lacked—warmth, love and a home.

“Where was she during the last fight?”

“I have no idea, but she didn’t want to be around you,” Takemichi cringes at the confession.

It’s true, she and Manjiro were like strangers in this timeline, but it wasn’t guaranteed that they wouldn’t meet again. After all, this mysterious girl was also friends with the rest of Toman. Takemichi wasn’t sure who exactly was her closest friend in the gang, and it made the chances of meeting her very slim.

“How do you know so much, though?” Mikey starts, taking a bite from his pastry. “You can remember that I was a piece of shit to her, but not her face?” It was a natural question, and no offense was taken by Takemichi who shrugged his shoulders.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I got some answers from Chifuyu and Naoto. We know this girl, but we tried to look at every picture with Toman and she was just never there. Almost like a ghost.”

“And you’re sure she isn’t dead in this present time?” This was Takemichi’s least favorite theory. Something must’ve happened in the past, she was nowhere to be found and the guy didn’t have time to ask everyone if they remember a certain girl being involved with the gang. All he could hope for was that she was alive and that nothing bad happened to her. Unlike that one timeline where she does end up getting killed, Takemichi hoped that she somehow survived and made it in the present time.

“I hope that she isn’t.” Takemichi confesses, almost gloomily. “But one thing is for sure—if she was close to somebody in Toman, there’s a chance she might attend either mine or your sister’s wedding. Let’s not lose hope.”

You are invited to the wedding of an old friend. You remember Emma as being the light of any room she walks into, and seeing her get married to the one person she’s always had a crush on makes you grin from ear to ear as you hold the wedding invitation in your hands. You are not particularly close to the couple, but you remember bumping into them a couple of times and every time you would pray that nothing bad happens and separates them because their happiness is truly contagious.

The wedding takes place in about two days, and you learn that you are not the only one invited when you hear your doorbell ring.

“You’re invited to Emma and Draken’s wedding, right?” Kazutora stands at your door and you snort at how excited he is. You’ve been friends with him for almost a decade now, you’ve seen each other at your lowest and you couldn’t deny that your friendship with the man was one of a kind. He pestered you like you were a little sister, and no matter how annoying he was to you, he happened to be one of the few people who were truly there for you when you needed them.

“Mhm, she even called me and told me she really wants to see me.” You smile when you remember the phone call. She was sweet enough to ask for your number when you bumped into her three months ago, and now that you look back at it—it was definitely to invite you to her wedding. You let Kazutora walk inside your place and the man makes himself comfortable on your couch.

“Good. You do need to get out of the house, it’s starting to become annoying,” he says with a light tone, and he sees you roll your eyes before you take a seat next to him.

“Sure, I do need to socialize a little.”

“Not a little, a lot.”

“Shut up, I get it.” You smack Kazutora’s arm and he laughs before grabbing the remote control. He chooses a random show on Netflix before grabbing his phone to order takeout. You can’t even argue with him or tell him you had some left-over food from yesterday because he wouldn’t listen to you anyway.

Kazutora was right. You rarely ever went out unless you were obligated or the man dragged you to an event. It felt as though you dreaded the thought of going out and having to meet people. But attending Emma’s wedding didn’t sound like a bad idea. As long as the people there were as sweet as her.

Which made you realize another thing.

“It’s crazy how we both knew Emma, but we didn’t become friends through her.” You say outloud and your friend hums. You two became friends because you happened to be hanging out near a cat café. You both happened to be rescuing the same kitten, and decided that it was the start of your very long friendship.

“True, which also means that you’ve never met one of my closest friends and Emma’s brother.” You tilt your head in confusion.

“Who?”

“Mikey.” You’ve never heard of that name in your life. Then again, you’ve never been to Emma’s house or were that close to her in the first place. All you knew was that she had a massive crush on this Draken dude who you saw recently and that was that. Anything about her family was simply none of your business.

“Yeah, I don’t know him.” You simply shrug.

“He’s a pretty famous racer actually,” oh? That was a first. “But he likes to keep his personal life mostly private. Last time, he came to my place wearing a black hoodie and black sweatpants—I thought I was getting robbed.”

You snort at the thought of your friend being absolutely terrified from his own close friend. But this made you a little curious about this Mikey. If he was as famous as Kazutora claims, why have you never seen him on TV before?

“You’re such a scaredy cat. “ You tease your friend, nudging him with your elbow.

“Yeah, yeah. Says the same person who cried when she found me on her couch after opening the door for me at night.”

“I forgot!”

“Say that to the person who will murder you in your sleep.”

Emma’s wedding was as intimate as it could be. You weren’t complaining, you hated big weddings where people didn’t even know each other. And right off the bat, you could tell that the people invited to the couple’s wedding were loved ones and have seen them grow up together.

You don’t feel out of place, but you are still a little closed off as Kazutora marches towards his group of friends. You refused to go with him mainly because it would be so awkward and you wanted to give your friend some space to hang out with his own group of friends. And so you stand next to the drinks, pour yourself some water and hold onto your cup while looking around the place.

It was small, but not too small. You take notice of the flowers hanging by the ceiling and the cake sitting in the corner. There’s soft music playing in the background and despite the number of people present, it is not loud enough to annoy you. Perhaps if you were to get married one day, you wanted a ceremony just like this.

You’re brought out of your thoughts when you feel Kazutora’s hand around your wrist and you send him a look that he knows a little too well.

Don’t you dare-

“Come! They wanna meet you.” He’s grinning from ear to ear, and you hear his friends laugh at the contrast in your expressions. While Kazutora is so excited to introduce you to his friends, you look as though you don’t even want to be here.

“There she is! Give her some time and she will warm up to you guys,” you give a tight lipped smile and you can feel your cheeks warming up at the attention. You aren’t exactly awkward with people, but being introduced like this wasn’t a situation you would ever put yourself into.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mitsuya.” A man with lavender hair extends his hand out and the smile on his face helps you relax a little. You shake hands with him and introduce yourself back, and suddenly everyone was telling you who they were.

Beside Baji (whom you’ve already seen in pictures before), everyone else is a new face. There was a set of twins, Souya and Nahoya. Pah-chin and Peh-yan, and then there was Hakkai and Chifuyu. They were all nice and welcoming, didn’t make you feel awkward at all. But you notice how Chifuyu’s stare lingers on you for a bit longer than the rest, and you don’t shy away from asking him if there was something he needed.

“Is there anything you need or?”

“Oh no,” Chifuyu starts and shakes his head. His cheeks are flushed that you caught him staring at you so intensely, but he continues nonetheless. “You just look familiar, that’s all.”

Familiar? It wasn’t exactly impossible, but you were still sure that you’ve never met Chifuyu before.

“Maybe we met outside or something, or maybe Kazutora showed you a pic?” You ask the male, and he quickly darts his eyes towards Kazutora.

“Actually, yeah. I think that’s where I saw you.” He lets go of the conversation pretty quickly after this, leaving you standing confused next to your friend. You don’t really question it, perhaps he did believe you and it was all in his head. But it was still a weird interaction altogether.

You are quickly introduced to a new person, and your interaction with him isn’t any less weird than the previous one. Takemichi stares at you with wide eyes and parted lips, and you see Chifuyu pinch his side which makes you furrow your eyebrows. What the fuck was going on here?

“Are you okay—“

“You just look very familiar.” Again? You almost roll your eyes in annoyance. If they were playing games with you, this surely wasn’t a fun one. But you decide to give a proper answer to this observation and shake your head.

“It’s probably all in your head, I’m sorry. I have never seen you in my life.”

Despite how warm and gentle you look, you are strong minded and don’t shy away from situations like these. Takemichi finds himself smiling at the thought.

I can see why her and Mikey are perfect for each other.

Takemichi, just like Chifuyu, lets go of the conversation very easily and you find yourself even more annoyed than before. If one more person tells you that you look familiar, you might just tell them to fuck off. But you’re distracted by Kazutora dragging you to take a seat, indicating that the ceremony was about to start.

You watch as the best men step out and stand next to the groom who looks as though he is about to burst into tears at any moment. It is a sweet thing to witness in real time, the same man you remember meeting three months ago holding a bag of groceries while Emma was holding nothing but her purse. He was truly head over heels, and to be able to witness him devote himself and promise to love and cherish her, to be there for her and hold her when things get tough felt like witnessing a love story straight from the books.

The after-party starts shortly after, and you take notice of how the quiet and intimate vibes remain present throughout the whole night. You are sat at a table all alone, Kazutora had only left your side a few moments prior to grab food for you both and so you decide to just scroll on your phone for a bit. But you are quickly robbed of your alone time when your friend comes back and it seems as though he’s dragging someone with him.

“(Name), this is Mikey. Mikey, this is (name). He’s the friend that I told you about yesterday.” Mikey is anything but how you imagined him to be. Cocky, arrogant, maybe a little self-centered since that’s how everyone who rose to fame behaved even around their friends. But he is… closed off. He can hold eye contact, but you take notice of the small blush painting the apples of his cheeks at having to be introduced like this.

You two seemed to have that in common.

You give a small smile in response and extend your hand, Mikey sees it and mirrors your actions. You don’t think much of it, it’s a hand shake after all—but the moment the palm of your head meets his, you feel electricity shock through your body and you both pull away with a slight hiss.

“Shit-“

“Ouch.”

You’re both holding your hands back, but then you look at him and he feels different. For some odd reason, this young man you had just been introduced to looks at you as though he’s been looking for you for a long time. Your heart skips a beat. His eyes are intense, and he doesn’t seem to pull his eyes away from you until you dart them back towards Kazutora with red cheeks.

Your friend watches the scene unfold before him with raised eyebrows and a small smile. He had hopes that two of his closest friends would get along, and it seemed to be going just fine.

“Wow, am I interrupting something?” The playful tone to his voice seems to make the heat travel all over your body, and both you and Mikey smack him at his comment.

“Don’t be such a dickhead.” You look adorable when you try to be threatening, Mikey thinks. But he also thinks that it must be you.

The girl Takemichi told him about a few days earlier, it has to be you. He doesn’t know how or why, but the hand shake made him feel different about you. It was cheesy to be thinking this way, Mikey would’ve probably teased anyone else if they had told him this. But you were staring at him with pretty eyes and pink cheeks, even your stare was a shy one up until you looked at Kazutora.

You bicker with Kazutora for a few more moments until Mikey sees him lift up his hands in defeat, a triumphant smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at this.

“Fine, I’ll leave you two alone if that’s what you really want.” This little-

“That’s not what I said!” Your face is as red as a tomato, watching Kazutora walk away to chit-chat with some of his friends. Mikey finds himself snickering a little at this.

“Laughing at my misery?” You tell the man with a small grumble and he shrugs his shoulders before pulling out a chair.

“It was entertaining—can I?” You nod in response and Mikey takes a seat next to you. Your body immediately relaxes around him, and given that you were the only two people sitting at this table, you don’t find yourself feeling awkward as you strike a conversation with the man.

“So, you like bikes?” The question is genuine, but the way you phrase it has Mikey throwing his head back with a small laugh.

“I do, how were you able to tell?” He props his elbow on the table before resting his chin on his hand. He is grinning, and the way he’s staring at you makes your stomach flutter.

“A little birdie told me you’re a pretty famous racer,” You grin in return and mirror his actions, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Mikey takes notice of what you are trying to do and lets out another laugh.

“I am, and yes I do love bikes.”

“I know, Mikey.” You chuckle at his sincerity and you see him shrug his shoulders.

“Hey, I’m an honest man. I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t lying.”

“Honestly, you look like a terrible liar.” You giggle a little when he lets out a gasp, feigning being offended.

“I am an amazing liar!”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah! For example, me being an amazing liar is a lie in itself,” Mikey finds himself grinning from ear to ear when his little joke makes you laugh really hard. He truly hopes that you were her, otherwise he would be pretty bummed.

“Alright comedian, I’m getting a little hungry. Wanna grab some food?” Manjiro doesn’t say no, and so you stand up and head towards the display of various types of snacks and food to fill your plate.

The night seemed to be going pretty well.

You spend the rest of the night talking to Mikey as though you’ve known each other for years. He lets you talk with Emma and Draken to congratulate them, and you don’t notice the smile that’s on her face when she sees you walk away with her brother. In fact, you fail to notice the various pairs of eyes lingering on you both as you sit down at the very corner, seemingly thinking that you are away from prying eyes, but you were obviously wrong. You and Manjiro looked like you were on a date.

The after-party does eventually come to an end. Kazutora tells you to get ready and you put on the coat you brought with you in case it got cold at night (which it did). Mikey walks you out of the venue, but before you can follow Kazutora to his car, he stops you with a hand around your wrist.

“Hey wait,”

“Yeah?” A part of you was hoping that the conversation was going that way, you had a lot of fun with Mikey during the few hours you hung out with him and you were hoping that he would do something about it.

“I had a lot of fun, and it wasn’t even my own wedding,” he starts with a chuckle. “And I was wondering if we could hang out again.” Oh, he was bold. You liked that.

You smile at this, and you remove your wrist from his grasp before wrapping it around his hand, grabbing it firmly.

“I would love to, Mikey.” You exchange phone numbers and you walk towards Kazutora’s car. You wave at Mikey, you see him mouth ‘I’ll text you later’ and it makes you blush. You get inside the car, and Kazutora immediately starts the car.

He notices how quiet you are, but you don’t look upset. You’re busy staring at your phone, almost like you were waiting for a text and then your phone pings. Your eyes light up when you see the notification, and you quickly type something on your phone.

Mikey<3

--Kazutora’s a pretty reckless driver. Think you gonna get there safely?

You stifle a giggle before sending a reply.

--He’s a pretty good driver actually, have some faith in him.

Kazutora doesn’t take a look at your phone, but from the way you are beaming at your phone, he knows who you were talking to.

“You two are getting along pretty well,” you don’t raise your head to look at him, only nod in response.

“Mhm, he’s really cute,” you say quietly and your friend smiles to himself. He hasn’t seen you this excited about someone in quite some time, and for it to be his close friend out of everyone warms up his heart.

You couldn’t wait to see Mikey again.

Mikey has a very busy schedule, you learn that from the past three weeks of texting him. You tried to make plans four times, and they were all dismissed by his team because he had something to do. You weren’t even upset about it, you had been having video and phone calls with him the entire time, but he still apologizes during every call and promises to make it up to you somehow.

Which brings you to where you are right now—standing near your apartment building waiting for him to pick you up. You two had agreed to go back to his place to hang out, since his race was coming up soon, the paparazzi were on his ass and he didn’t want that to ruin his fun time with you.

You see a black, fancy car pull up next to you and your eyes are wide as you stare at it. Mikey rolls down the window and flashes you a toothy grin, before yelling out.

“You’re gonna keep standing there?” You are quick to get inside the car, and you take notice of how clean it is.

“I didn’t think you were gonna pick me up in such a fancy car,” you admit, and Manjiro chuckles at your honesty.

“Were you expecting a bike?”

“Yeah.” You smile when you see him laugh a little harder. “What?”

“You’re cute, that’s all,” you blush at his remark and cough a little, suddenly finding the ceiling of his car very interesting.

“Getting shy?”

“Focus on driving,” you say playfully and he gets stubborn, refusing to listen to you.

“Ooh, did my talk of Kazutora being a reckless driver get to your head?” He rests his head on the steering wheel, and you almost panic when you see that he’s not paying attention.

“Mikey—really, focus!”

You arrive to his place in less than twenty minutes, and you hope your face does not betray you and show him how absolutely mesmerized you are by the size of the building. You have to hurt your neck in order to see the top, and he tells you that he lives on the 20th floor, since he loves watching the city from above. You walk inside, get in the elevator and Manjiro notices the way you’re holding your purse tightly.

His hand reaches out towards you and wraps around your wrist, you look at him in surprise but immediately relax when you see the smile on his face.

“Relax, yeah?” His voice is barely above a whisper. Butterflies dance in your stomach at the way he’s addressing you—so full of love and care. You look away from him when you feel your face getting hot.

Luckily, Manjiro doesn’t notice as the elevator finally comes to a halt, indicating that you finally arrived at the 20th floor. The doors open and you are greeted with a long, illuminated hallway with grey carpets on the floor and big windows on the side. Mikey is the first one to step out and you follow suit, watching as he starts to look for his keys in his pockets.

You arrive at a door with big, bold numbers on it and you wait behind Mikey as he unlocks it before stepping inside.

“Come in, make yourself comfortable.”

Mikey’s place is as fancy as the building, but there’s a hint of domesticity to it and it warms up your heart. There are framed pictures everywhere, trophies sitting above the bookshelf and plants in each corner of the humongous living room. The kitchen is attached to the living space, and you’re surprised when you see that the oven was turned on.

“Were you cooking?”

“Yeah, I’m actually lucky cause if we had been late, our dinner could’ve been burned.” He’s grinning from ear to ear, while you stare at him mortified. He could’ve started a fire and he’s laughing about it?

“You know that’s super dangerous, Mikey.”

“I was just excited to come pick you up,” he pouts at you, and you already have this show memorized. Every time he would do something reckless and he tells you over a video call, he would pout when you scold him in hopes of getting out of it.

“Please,” you roll your eyes, bending down to take off your shoes before putting on the slippers he had laid out for you. While dinner was still cooking, Mikey decides to give you a little tour of his apartment.

You learn that there is he makes good use of the space he has, and he tells you it’s all thanks to his sister Emma for giving him ideas. He has an office where he takes calls, a bedroom that looks rather neat compared to when you saw it over the video call a few days ago and a very pretty bathroom that is black themed. You think it’s the prettiest part of his house.

“Out of everything, you pick the bathroom?” He is amused, watching as you grab the bottles of shampoo and conditioner with a loud gasp, the fascination in your eyes warms up his chest. He truly feels like pulling you in his arms.

“Those are so cool! Have you ever broken one of these?” Manjiro raises an eyebrow at this.

“Why?”

“I just wanna know if you’re clumsy,” you give him an innocent grin, and he pouts his lips at your comment.

“I am not clumsy.”

“Hm, then I guess Kazutora lied to me.” This makes his ears perk up.

“Kazutora told you about me?” You chuckle at his eagerness but nod anyway.

“He told me you were reckless and a bit childish,” you tilt your head to the side. “Stubborn, indecisive, impulsive, idiotic-“

“Did he say anything that’s actually good,” you can sense the annoyance in his voice and chuckle before reaching out to hold one of his hands.

“He told me you were loyal, very kind and loving. You care a lot about your family and friends, and you never let fame get to your head,” your voice is soft as you tell him all the things Kazutora told you, and the longer you hold his hand, the louder your heartbeat is in your ears.

It feels strange, almost familiar to be this close with him even through just hand holding. And when you look up from where you were holding his hand, your breath hitches at the way he is staring at you. Intense, passionate—you can’t exactly decide how Mikey’s eyes feel, but you do know that they make you nervous. You bite your bottom lips out of nervousness, but you don’t let go of his hand. Instead, your thumb caresses the back of his hand and traces soft circles there.

“And what do you think?” Mikey finally breaks the silence, eyes darting all over your face before settling on your lips.

“I think,” you tighten your hold around his hand, before pulling him towards you in one sudden movement. “I think you should kiss me.”

Manjiro didn’t need to be told twice. His hands gripped your hips as he pinned you against his sink, lips pressed against yours in what started out as a soft, innocent kiss. But the longer your lips moved against one another, the harder it was to keep it tame. You only pull away when you’re out of breath and panting, hands gripping the fabric of shirt to pull him impossibly closer to you. He rests his forehead against yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lips before pulling you into another kiss. You gasp when you feel his lips kiss down, nipping at your jaw.

“Mikey—the food.” You pant out.

“Oh shit-“ There goes your dinner.

Whatever Mikey cooked that night wasn’t going to be served. You laugh a little at how pouty and sad he is at the incident, but you reassure him that you appreciate his effort until the very end, and even if it was ruined.

You end up ordering food for the night, and you find out that Mikey gets really excited when the food has little decorations on top. He orders a hamburger and you decide to go for a pizza, and the sheer amount of happiness on his face when he finds a little flag on top of the bun makes you coo at him.

There is a show playing while you eat, but neither of you focus on what was happening as you devour your food and talk about everything and nothing. You learn many things about Mikey, and so does he. And it seems as though the kiss you shared back in the bathroom is long forgotten, almost as though it never happened. But you do notice that Mikey is holding back on the stuff he is telling you.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” You’re not necessarily being confrontational, but you see him shift a little. So you noticed.

He doesn’t say anything as he removes the fry from his mouth and grabs some water, and your heart sinks a little. When did it get so serious?

“Mikey?”

“Can I be honest about something?” Oh no. Whenever a conversation started like this, you knew it wasn’t going to end well.

“Sure.” He was gonna tell you that he didn’t enjoy the kiss—or worse, did your breath smell? You already felt repulsed by yourself and he hadn’t even said a single thing. You were getting ready for rejection, for the night to end terribly and for him to send you back home and never talk to you again. You knew it was too good to be true.

“This might sound a little crazy, but we were lovers in the past.” Huh? You didn’t know what to say—this sounded ridiculous, but maybe he meant when you were kids? On the playground?

“You mean as kids or?”

“No, I mean in a different timeline, we are—well, were lovers.” The use of the past tense when referring to his relationship with you has a bitter aftertaste to it. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing right now, you might not even be her. But he remembers his conversation with Takemichi after Emma’s wedding, how his friend confirmed to him that yes, it was you.

“Mikey, go for it.” Takemichi was grinning from ear to ear. It seemed as though you were actually alive and he did manage to save everyone this time. Even you.

“Are you sure-“

“Yes,” Chifuyu interrupts with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. “I’m certain that it’s her.”

This was the confirmation Mikey needed, but he was still scared. What if you reject him in this timeline? What if you both don’t fall in love and things don’t work out? This probably scared him more than having to tell you about the whole time leap thing.

“What do you mean?” You don’t tell him that he sounds ridiculous, nor do you laugh at the fact that he just told you that you were both lovers at one point.

“Takemichi, and my brother—but it doesn’t matter,” Mikey shakes his head. “Takemichi was able to go back in time at one point in his life. He’s what people might call a time leaper. He went through hell and beyond to be able to save his girlfriend from dying, but then eventually he got involved with me and that’s how we became friends.” You see him pause to smile to himself, and you think to yourself that there is no way someone can make up a story this detailed without stuttering or missing a beat.

“Every time he tried to fix something in the past, it would lead to a horrible outcome in the future. And he remembers that—well, we were together,” he frowns before continuing. “No matter the horrible outcome, we were never separated until well, now.”

What Mikey is saying right now should make you look at him like he’s crazy, what he’s implying and the events he’s describing sound straight out of a book. And yet you still believe every word he says. You aren’t sure what part of his speech convinced you that this was real, you just believe him.

“It makes sense. The handshake made me feel some kind of way, I thought I was crazy for looking too deeply into it—but then I felt you and I don’t know, I think even hanging out as friends would do us great, yeah?” You were going on such a ramble, that you fail to notice that Mikey is a little taken aback by your understanding of the whole situation. He’s relieved that you don’t think he is crazy, but when he feels the blush crawl up his neck, he looks away from you with a loud huff.

“What is wrong with you?” You blink at him.

“Hm?”

“You’re being awfully understanding, I wasn’t expecting it.” You find yourself cooing at him, and your hand reaches towards his face to pinch his cheek playfully.

“Oh Mikey, are you shy?” You regret your words as soon as they come out. You feel his hand grab your wrist before pulling you on top of him on the couch, making you straddle him. He smirks at your wide eyed look and his hands grip your hips just like how he did in the bathroom.

“Cat got your tongue?” Yes, it totally did. This side of Mikey was so unexpected but you weren’t complaining. But you did feel as though he was reminding you that no matter how flustered he could get, he always had more effect on you than you could ever imagine.

You get over the situation on the couch rather quickly, and an hour later you decide that it’s finally time to head back home. Mikey is whiny about it, but he decides to drive you back to your place and completely forgets why he was upset in the first place. His behavior resembled one of a very needy puppy.

He parks next to your apartment building, and he immediately starts sighing out dramatically.

“Mikey-“

“I cannot believe I have just been reunited with my past lover, and yet she still asks to go back to her place and urgently!” He yells out the last part, the back of his hand pressed against his forehead. “I am heartbroken.”

“I promise to text you, yeah?” You lean towards him and press a kiss to his cheek, to which he grins at.

“And you have to go on a date with me again very soon.”

“Okay, deal.” You quickly agree, and the smile beaming on his face makes you think that if he was always going to be this happy, then you would go on plenty of dates with him.

“Goodnight Mikey,”

“Manjiro.” Your hand rests at the door, and you turn around to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Call me Manjiro, I like it better.”

You smile at this and nod his way. “Goodnight Manjiro.” It sounds so sweet when it comes out of your mouth, and when you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek, he grabs your face and pulls you into a deep kiss.

He is such a passionate kisser, a little aggressive since he keeps nipping and biting at your bottom lip and gripping the back of your head—but you don’t mind. You are dizzy when he pulls away, and he finally unlocks the door for you with a grin on his face.

“Goodnight, (Name).”

Over the next month and a half, not once do you question your relationship with Mikey. It’s casual, you tell yourself. It has to be. Sure, you have shared a few passionate, and very intimate kisses but it was all casual and friendly. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

Mikey refuses to discuss whatever is going on between you two either, chooses to brush it to the side because as much as his brain was telling him this was going well, his heart was screaming at him not to get attached. Which was too late.

The conversations you both had, the kisses you shared—hell, you even understood the whole time leap thing and told him that when he first shook hands with you, he felt familiar. But what if Mikey fucks up again? What if he messes up like he did in the previous times, so badly to the point where even Takemichi couldn’t fix it? The thoughts in his head were getting louder and more suffocating by the minute, and he was afraid that he would do it again—push you away, or worse; lose you.

You notice that his text messages become shorter and less excited than when you both started talking, it confuses you at first—you brush off the idea of him losing interest in you because there was no way. You both got along so well, did he really get cold feet so suddenly?

It was even more frustrating to try to get him to talk about it—every time you would try to bring it up, he would shut down your attempt and give a lame excuse such as “oh, I’m just tired” or “I didn’t get enough sleep”. You were starting to get a little fed up.

You text Kazutora to come over, and you’re not even surprised when you hear a knock at your door not even twenty minutes later. He was always quick with these.

“What do you want this time, more money? My soul?” Kazutora says as he walks in, but the humorous mood he was trying to set immediately fades when he notices your distressed state.

“Wow, are you okay?” His eyebrows are pinched in concern and you shake your head.

“No, no—I think Mikey doesn’t like me.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” This wasn’t what Kazutora heard from Mikey himself, and he realizes almost immediately that things weren’t being communicated properly between you two.

“He’s been acting distant and cold—and I think I fucked up, maybe I shouldn’t have kissed him the first time we hung out-“

“You kissed him the first time you hung out?” Your friend was impressed, but he winces when you smack his shoulder. “Shit sorry—hey listen, I’m very sure he likes you.”

“How can you be so sure? I really don’t know what he’s thinking and it’s killing me.” You are frustrated, and it’s very understandable. But Kazutora has to explain to you how Mikey was as a person.

“It’s Mikey, he’s incredibly scared of his feelings.” He sits you down on your couch and you raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “It’s always been like this. His feelings are intense, and he is scared that it might push people away which is why he’s had the same group of friends for years--so my theory is, he really likes you. But he is scared that you do not feel the same, or worse and impossible; don’t feel the same way.”

You aren’t surprised that your friend knows this much about Mikey, but you still find it endearing that he was willing to explain to you in detail how his friend dealt with his feelings. You find yourself nodding at his words before resting your head on the couch.

“How do I make him less scared though?”

“What do you mean?”

“I obviously like him back,” you stare at your friend. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. But how do I tell him? How do I let him know that I want him? I can’t have him question that, I need him to be convinced that I feel the same for him, that it doesn’t scare me.”

Kazutora smiles a little at your eagerness. You and Mikey were truly the perfect match. Confident, unwavering and strong with a pinch of gentleness and care for your loved ones. He pats your head affectionately.

“Don’t worry, I got the perfect plan.”

You should’ve known his plan would include some of Mikey’s closest friends. You are a blushing mess as you stand in the middle of Mitsuya’s office in an awkward position. The lavender head is staring you down so intensely, you can’t even hold eye contact with him.

“Yeah, lucky her I have one ready.” Have what? You look at Kazutora who only grins at you before shrugging his shoulders.

Mitsuya then comes out and is holding what appears to be a black outfit. He hands it to you and sits back down on his chair before nodding at you to open it. You do as you are told and unfold the piece of clothing in your hands—a dress? There was pretty writing in gold, it said TOMAN on the back and Mikey written in gold right above the heart area.

“Is this…?”

“Mhm, Mikey’s old uniform when we were back in Toman.” Mitsuya says before fixing his glasses. “I tried to experiment with it a couple of times, and this is the last thing I was able to make. It should fit you as an oversized shirt.”

You hold the piece of clothing in your hand and nod at him, before darting your eyes towards your friend.

“What do I do with this?”

“His race is tomorrow. You already have a VIP pass to the front row, right?” You nod in response. “Cool, wear that and stand there. I’m very sure he will be very excited.”

It sounded like a reckless plan—crazy, even. But you were down for it as long as Manjiro knew that you felt the same, and that you were willing to try again with him in this timeline. You were ready to be lovers, it’s what fate decided for you both. And although it doesn’t always work out, during the two months of having known Mikey, you’ve come to accept the fact that you were his and he was yours.

No matter the circumstances, you always found your way back in each other’s lives.

Mikey loved his job more than anything in the world. He loved the adrenaline that comes with it, the confidence boost that he gets from hearing people—fans, and mostly his friends and family cheer for him, was immeasurable. He was the center of attention, and such a competitive person that all eyes fell on him the moment he gets on his bike. Like a kid being handed candy, Mikey finds pure joy in holding trophies at the end of every race, and some might think he is cocky for saying this—but he knew that today’s victory was going to be his.

He is getting ready to get on his bike, a heavy helmet in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He knows his manager is saying something, but he can’t really get himself to care enough to listen, mind thinking of far more important things.

He wonders how you are doing, after all it’s been a while since he last saw you and it makes him internally cringe. Avoidance was one of his worst traits, coming second to pushing people away from him. He doesn’t know what he should do about the whole situation, he is far too deep in it to be able to get out without you getting mad at him or worse—choosing not to be with him. But Manjiro is ready for whatever is thrown his way, he will fight back and try to win you ever. Even if his own fears can easily get the best of him at the worst of times.

The race starts, and Manjiro doesn’t stare at the crowd cheering for him. He knows it’s the usual—His siblings, grandpa and all of his friends cheering the name “Mikey!” over and over again. It wasn’t until the race ends and Mikey wins the first place that he decides to take off his helmet and flash the crowd his usual, toothy grin. It’s contagious, and he notices how his friends keep pointing down for him to notice something in the crowd—or rather, someone.

There you were, standing so close to him yet so far away—how did he not notice you from the very beginning? You looked adorable, and you were wearing something that looked way too familiar. The closer he got to you, the sooner he was able to confirm that it was his old Toman uniform. And you were wearing it as an oversized shirt, with what he hoped were shorts underneath.

He doesn’t miss the way his siblings and friends were snickering to themselves at his speechless state, but he chooses that he will throw a tantrum over that later. He has more important things to focus on—such as asking you what you were doing here, how did you get that? Does it mean that you weren’t mad at him?

Mikey knew he should be careful with the paparazzi, after all they were the type to make a huge deal out of anything—but he has never had any dating rumor. In fact, he would always shut down the idea and say that dating wasn’t for him. But now that you were standing in the crowd, looking especially adorable in his old uniform, he couldn’t really decide whether to protect you from the nasty fans or to hold you in his arms and show the public that his heart belonged to one person only.

He decides to be careful for the sake of your safety—flashes you a confident smile that has your face changing into a bright red color before giving him a curt nod which he returns. You could hear Kazutora and Baji fake gagging in the back at the sight of you two communicating silently, but you didn’t care anymore. Not when Mikey’s eyes spoke louder than any cheering you heard today.

You are patiently waiting for him next to his changing room, it’s where Emma told you to go. You appreciated that neither she, Izana nor Shinichiro teased you about being romantically involved with their brother. Though you did notice the smile that painted the older brother’s face at your nervousness, so he decides to speak up.

“I’m glad you found each other again.” So that’s what Mikey meant when he said that his brother was a time leaper too. Shinichiro knew about you two, but he trusted Takemichi to do the job of telling Manjiro about you.

You fiddle with your thumbs, leaning against the wall. You don’t have time to get lost in your thoughts before you see Mikey storming down the hallway and towards you, ridding himself of his jacket and all the equipment that was strapped onto him as a form of protection.

“Sir—“ His manager tries to get his attention, but Mikey raises a single hand to dismiss his efforts.

“Whatever it is, cancel it or tell them to wait. I have far more important things to do.” You flush at his words, and you’re about to say something yourself when Manjiro grabs your hand and opens the door to his changing room. He turns out and looks at his manager once again.

“No one’s allowed near my room for a while, okay?” His manager raises a questioning eyebrow.

“But sir, why-“

“It doesn’t take a genius to know why.” Mikey almost gives the man a deadpan look, and the manager seems to understand almost immediately and flushes before bowing his head and walking away in a hurry.

You are amused at how eager Mikey is about the whole situation, but you can’t deny that you feel nervous about being alone with him in his changing room. It’s fancy and private, exactly what you imagine Mikey to have since it’s not any different from his house.

Once the door is closed and locked, Mikey turns around to face you and he lets out a fascinated “wow”, eyes darting over the newest version of his old uniform.

“You like it?” Your voice is shy, and you feel small under his gaze as he takes a step closer to you. His hand reaches to grab the hem of your shirt and you see how his thumb grazes over the fabric. His eyes travel all the way up to your face before letting out a hum.

“Ask me again if I like it,” Manjiro’s voice is barely above a whisper, you feel his other hand grab your jaw.

“Do you like it?” You can’t finish the sentence properly before he’s yanking you towards him by your shirt, the hand that was holding the hem of your shirt resting on the small of your back. His nose brushes against yours, and his eyes dart over your face in search for any sign of hesitance or wanting him to pull away.

Instead, you’re a blushing mess. But there’s a proud grin on your face, and you’re biting your bottom lip in hopes of controlling it—Mikey thinks you look too pretty up close.

“I love it, a lot.” He brushes his lips against yours, pulls back when he feels you trying to kiss him properly and when you whine, he lets out a small chuckle.

“What? You wanna kiss me?” You don’t give him a verbal response, but you catch him off guard and capture his lips in a deep kiss. You can tell he is taken aback, but the hand that was resting on your back rests on your face and you almost feel yourself melting from him holding your face with both hands. The kiss is passionate and deep, and you feel yourself being backed up against the wall. You gasp when you feel him pin you there, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth. His hands move down from your face to grip your hips, and when he pulls away, you’re a panting mess.

He rests his forehead against yours, taking in how your face is flushed and your eyes have a thin layer of lust coating them. He hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before biting the skin there.

“I need to hear it.” And somehow, you don’t even have to ask him to know what he means.

“I’m yours, I wanna be yours.” He bites at your jaw, then asks you to say it again.

“Yours-“

“Fuck yeah, mine.” He gently nips at your neck, and you can’t think properly to tell him not to leave any love bites there. Again, you are reminded by how strong he is when he lifts you up and wraps your legs around his waist, walking towards the couch. He lays you down there, and when you see him get down on his knees, you start panicking.

“Manjiro, you don’t have to-“ he grabs your hand and places it on his crotch, and your lips part in shock when you feel the bulge in his pants. Already? Just from making out? Your face was burning enough.

“Feel that? Yeah, I have to.” You let him take off your shoes for you, and let out a surprised squeal when he rids you of your shorts and panties in one go. You hear him groan at the sight, shamelessly spreading your legs wider for him before pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh.

“Can smell you from here, sweet thing.” His voice is raspy, and you only nod in response while licking your lips. Your hands grab at the hem of your shirt and you’re ready to pull it over your head before Mikey stops you.

“Keep it. Wanna fuck you in it.” You feel dizzy at his words. You’ve always known that Mikey was confident but this was a whole new person, not that you were complaining.

Manjiro presses a few loving kisses on your inner thighs before getting to your pussy where he stares at it for a few moments. You don’t have to feel self-conscious, he doesn’t let you as he presses his nose against the patch of pubes sitting right above where you wanted him the most. He parts your pussy lips with his fingers, and swipes his tongue over your folds, smiling when you give that adorable gasp over the initial contact. His thumb pulls the hood of your clit, before pressing his tongue against it. And when he sees the way you squirm and try to move away, he knows he’s doing a good job. His tongue assaults your clit over and over again—kissing, sucking and humming against the sensitive bud as his middle and ring finger push past your folds. You are far too gone to react properly to the intrusion, sitting up with a flushed face and uncontrollable moans leaving your lips.

Your stomach twitches and relaxes a couple of times, and Mikey can tell you are trying not to cum fast. So he curls his fingers up, grazing that one spot that has you covering your mouth and throwing your head back. He keeps finger fucking you at the same angle and pace, grinning to himself when your breathing stutters and you cum around his fingers, gushing so sweetly with the prettiest moans leaving your lips.

Mikey is back on his feet almost immediately, the fucked out look on your face making him groan to himself as he pulls his pants down enough to free his cock from its confines. It’s pretty, has a slight curve to it and the tip is flushed red. Your mouth waters at the sight, hands squeezing your boobs while staring up at him, begging him to put it in your mouth.

“Not today, baby,” he reaches for a random drawer next to him and pulls out a condom. You don’t have to question him before he’s wrapping it around his cock. “Today is all about you.”

It was pretty ironic considering the pathetic moan he lots out the moment he pushes himself inside you. Your pussy welcomes him with so much ease, and you wrap your legs around him to pull him impossibly closer to you. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss when he starts to move his hips against yours.

“Oh fuck baby, you feel good.” Manjiro says against your lips and you can only moan in response, the angle at which he is fucking you knocking the wind out of your chest. You are already feeling dizzy enough from the sheer force of his thrusts, but when you pull your legs up on his shoulders, Mikey gives you a look that could only mean trouble.

You gasp in surprise when he lifts up your hips, pushing your upper body deeper into the couch and he starts fucking you hard. His hips are driving into yours so harshly that you feel the couch move with every movement and the sounds—fuck, you just hope that the room is soundproof because the cries you are letting out along with Mikey’s occasional groans of “fuck yeah” “that’s it, take it.” Are straight up pornographic.

Your hands try to cling onto his shoulders, but settle on his muscular arms. You feel the muscle flex under your fingers, and you feel a little embarrassed that feeling his strength was what tipped you over the edge. You cum around him with a loud yelp, body stuttering and shuddering against his. You try to cling onto him for support, throwing your head back when you feel him press his thumb against your clit. You whine in overstimulation.

“I can’t—fuck, I can’t!”

“Oh yes you can, come on baby, make me proud.” Your eyes roll to the back of his head at the overwhelming sensation of his cock bullying its way inside along with his thumb over your clit. You think it’s humanly impossible to cum again in such a short amount of time, but you do it. Mikey pulls it out of you and this time, he collapses on top of you as you both reach your orgasms at the same time.

You think it’s magical, your fingers resting at the back of his head to brush the few hairs there. You feel him pant against your skin and hum, pressing a few kisses there.

“Need to clean you up,” you giggle at how sleepy he sounds but nod anyway.

“Yes, you do.”

“Can I just do it with my mouth?” You gasp in terror, trying to push his heavy body off of you.

“No! I’m too sensitive.” You feel him pout against your skin, but he gets off of you and traces his hands over your lower body.

“I like you like this, you’re so pretty.” Mikey reaches his hand up and pinches one of your nipples, making you gasp and smack his hand.

“Manjiro, keep your hands to yourself.” You see his eye twitch at your comment, and suddenly he flips you on all fours and smacks your ass harshly.

“Face down, I need to taste you again.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

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